


Dirthara

by lorspolairepeluche



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Character Biography, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, First Love, Gen, M/M, Multi, bc keeper is misguided as fuck and fucks everything up, look idefk how to tag all this, that goes all right but doesn't last i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9207167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorspolairepeluche/pseuds/lorspolairepeluche
Summary: "Aiyan of Clan Lavellan will be a name spoken for decades to come.”the story of a boy who goes to a new home. a boy who turns into a man. a man who questions, a man who searches, a man who learns and who fights and who lives.





	1. Da'len

**Author's Note:**

> most of the life story of aiyan rennaril lavellan, starting when he was six and going until the end of inquisition, i think. epilogue a little past that.

“Lavellan’s Keeper has no First or Second. She’s said she’ll take in any extra mages, and shes proven to be excellent at training them. The girl she intends to be her First is only sixteen. I brought that girl to Lavellan after she escaped from a slave master in the north when her magic appeared, and her skills at healing are remarkable. Rest assured, this young one will be taken care of and trained well.”

“Thank you.” The First crouched down and carefully dislodged the small boy clutching his leg. “ _Da'len_ , it is time for you to go.”

"I don’t wanna go,” he whispered. “Wanna stay with you, Babae.”

“Keeper Deshanna will be like a mother to you.” Telran Rennaril fought back his tears. “She will take care of you as I have. Your _mamae_ ’s spirit goes with you. She’ll protect you. I promise.”

“Babae?” the boy said, his voice rising when Telran stood and stepped back. “Babae!”

The boy started after his father, but the old elf behind him caught him around the waist. “We must go, _da'len_. Night falls soon.”

Even as the old elf carried him from camp, the boy kicked and screamed for his father. Telran, just out of sight, fell to his knees, finally allowing his tears to fall as the Keeper and the Second crouched on either side of him. “I knew this day would come,” Telran whispered. “I knew he’d be a mage. I tried, Keeper. I tried to prepare myself after we lost Reva, but…it came too soon. My son. My _son,_ ” he finished in a broken voice.

“No one is ever prepared for that,” the Keeper murmured, rubbing Telran’s shoulder. “You will see him again when you are Keeper.”

“The next Arlathvhen isn’t for another ten years.” Telran looked up at his mentor with his dark eyes haunted. “Will he even remember me?”

“No one forgets the first arms to hold them, _lethallin_ ,” the Keeper assured him. “Nor the first hand to feed or teach them.” He kissed Telran’s brow gently. “Clan Lavellan have always had strong mage blood, and their Keeper volunteered to take any extra mages born in the Free Marches. She will raise him well,” he said firmly. “Your son will grow strong, Telran. I know this.

"Aiyan of Clan Lavellan will be a name spoken for decades to come.”

—

“You may call me Keeper.”

The boy walking at his side, no longer crying, looked up at him with huge dark eyes, the kind where the pupil became lost in the iris. “You’re not Keeper.”

“There are many Keepers. Your old clan has a Keeper, as does the clan I am taking you to. Some Keepers do not even have a clan. They— _we_ —travel between, bringing news to clans. Sometimes,” he gave the boy a quick smile, “we even bring new clan members.” He stopped, thumping his staff on the ground and turning to his small charge. “What should I call you, child?”

“Aiyan,” the boy said softly. “I’m Aiyan.”

Keeper smiled down at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Aiyan. We’ll be traveling together for a few days, at least.”

They walked in silence for a while, before—

“Are you from the Beyond?”

Keeper glanced to Aiyan with a wry smile. “No, I am very much not.”

“Then—”

“I am from this world as much as any other elf,” Keeper told him gently. “Perhaps even more. That is something you must remember in your new clan, _da’len_ : we are as much a part of this world as anyone else. Even if it changes around us, we have to change with it. We cannot isolate ourselves.”

Aiyan nodded solemnly, recognizing the seriousness of the situation, but Keeper smiled. “You can’t have understood all that.”

“We can’t hide,” Aiyan said simply. “That’s what Babae says. If we want to survive, we have to ‘ek-sep’ some things. Like the humans that we trade with. We have to ‘ek-sep’ them.”

Keeper chuckled at the boy sounding out a word he had clearly never used before. “Yes, Aiyan. You are quite right. We have to accept some things.” He looked out to the horizon, where the sun had disappeared below the hills. “But there are some we fight against. A wise person knows which is which.”

—

“Calm yourself, _da’len,_ ” Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan said without looking beside her.

Marina glanced at her. “Sorry, Keeper.”

“They will be here soon,” Keeper assured her with a small smile, eyes fixed on the horizon. “You can calm down. See?”

Marina looked out toward the east with her, and the setting sun illuminated two figures just barely visible. The taller one stopped and turned, calling something too faint to hear, and the smaller elf hurried to catch up. “He’s _little._ ”

“He’s very young,” Keeper murmured in agreement. “His magic must have appeared remarkably early. Still.” She smiled at Marina. “That means we must only be all the more welcoming. I was no older when I was brought to this clan. I hope you will welcome our new young one.”

“You know I don’t like children,” Marina grumbled.

After that, it seemed to take no time before the other two elves were before them. “ _Andaran atish’an,_ ” Keeper greeted as she and the other elf bowed to each other.

“I bring you Aiyan, formerly of Clan Rennaril,” the older elf said formally. “He is to be given to you to care for and rear.”

“I accept him,” Keeper answered. “He shall be one of ours, known as Aiyan of Clan Lavellan.”

With the ceremony ended, the old elf relaxed and looked to Marina. “Hello, _da’len._ It’s good to see you again.”

“Keeper,” Marina greeted. “Any news?”

“None, save that you have a new clan member.” The wandering Keeper placed a hand on the small elf’s back, even as the child clung to him. “I trust you’ll take care of him?”

“Me? Take care of a kid?” Marina laughed. “He’s Keeper’s problem.” She made a face at the boy, even as the two Keepers shared a look and Deshanna shook her head.

The boy hid his face behind the old Keeper’s leg, but the Keeper tugged him back. “Marina will be your family now,” he said gently. “You have nothing to fear from her.” He gave a stern look to Marina, as if his assurance to the boy was an order to her. “Tell her your name, _da’len._ ”

The boy glanced up at Marina again, biting his bottom lip, then away, before saying, surprisingly clearly, “Aiyan. I’m Aiyan.”

Marina crouched, looking Aiyan in the eye. “Nice to meet you,” she said, and was surprised to feel like she almost meant it.

Aiyan looked up to the Keeper, as if for permission, and the old elf nodded. Aiyan stepped out from behind the old Keeper and whispered, “Hi.”

Marina couldn’t help the smile that rose to her face, even if she did manage to turn it into a smirk. “Hi.”

—

“You’ll sleep in Keeper’s aravel,” Marina explained.

“Do you sleep there, too?” Aiyan asked, clinging to Marina’s hand, and Marina contained a sigh before answering.

“Yes.”

Aiyan got as close to a smile as Marina had seen him get. Strange, though, he hadn’t cried yet. Most of the clan’s children cried at least once a day, and it had been hours showing him around camp, stopping to explain every flower he didn’t recognize and every person they saw. “All right.”

“Marina!”

She looked up, eager to have a distraction from the child clinging to her, to see two older elves ushering a boy the same age as Aiyan toward them. “Mamae!” the boy protested.

“Nansa!” Marina called. “Come meet our new clanmate! He’s your age!” _Thank the gods. Maybe he’ll take an interest in Nansa and leave me alone._ But something twinged in her—she almost liked her new charge by now.

Nansa took interest in that, his pale ears perking up, and he stopped resisting his parents, instead taking hesitant steps toward the other boy who peered out at him from behind Marina. “Aiyan, this is Enan’sahlin,” Marina said, encouraging Aiyan out in front of her.

“We call him Nansa,” the boy’s mother added. “He’s six, just like you.”

Warily, the two boys started toward each other, each not quite sure what to make of the other. Aiyan was first to hold out his hand. “I’m Aiyan.”

The other boy placed his in it. “I’m Nansa.”

They grinned at each other, and Marina, regardless of how she wanted to feel, felt a small bloom of affection. If trouble arose, and it wasn’t her fault, she would know exactly who the culprits would be.

—

The Keeper accepted the sleeping child from Nansa’s father, laughing, “Perhaps I should always let Aiyan play with Nansa when he has too much energy?”

“If you’d allow that to go both ways, that would be just fine,” Nansa’s mother Re’nehn chuckled, holding her dozing son in her arms. “We found them hiding in our aravel, sound asleep. It was quite sweet.”

“ _Ma serannas, lethallan,_ ” Keeper thanked her. “Now, we must put our children to bed—the sun has long since set, and Aiyan’s training begins tomorrow.” As Re’nehn and Isa’lath went to return to their aravel, the Keeper turned to her own, already humming the lullaby she had sung to every child of her clan.

“You found him,” Marina observed from where she sat on the step to their aravel. “Where did he end up?”

“I did not find him,” Keeper chuckled. “Re’nehn and Isa’lath found him sleeping in their aravel, right next to their son.”

“Should’ve figured,” Marina mused. “They ran off together pretty quick when I let them.”

Keeper ushered her older charge into the aravel and followed as Marina stripped of her outerwear. Carefully, Keeper pulled back the fur blankets that covered the bed she had made up for her new apprentice, and as she laid Aiyan down, she began to sing.

“ _Elgara vallas, da’len, melava somniar. Mala taren aravas, ara ma’desen melar._ ” She gently covered Aiyan in the furs, crooning all the while: “ _Iras ma ghilas, da’len, are ma’nedan ashir? Dirthara lothlenan’as bal emma mala dir._ ” She made her voice even softer as Aiyan began to stir, his eyes opening as he watched the Keeper sing. “ _Tel’enfenim, da’len, irassal ma ghilas. Ma garas mir renan—ara ma’athlan vhenas._ ”

“ _Ara ma’athlan vhenas,_ ” Aiyan echoed. He had a very sweet voice for a child, and Keeper smiled.

“You know that lullaby?” Marina asked, sitting in her own bed.

“Babae sings it for me,” Aiyan answered. already half-asleep again.

“Well, I will sing it for you too,” Keeper murmured, running her hand through the boy’s messy blond hair. “I will take care of you, _da’len._ Rest easy—I am here.”

—

—

The first time Marina sat bolt upright in the middle of the night and screamed, Keeper was at her side before Aiyan was fully awake. As Marina stared straight ahead without seeing, her chest heaving as if something was trying to escape, Keeper smoothed her hair and spoke softly, soothingly, in Elvhen. Aiyan understood very little of it besides _it’s all right; you’re safe; I’m here._ He stayed awake long enough to see Marina’s breathing slow and even out, see her shaking in Keeper’s arms and mumbling something, and he was asleep long before either Keeper or Marina.

The second time it happened, Elvhen couldn’t calm Marina down, but Aiyan noted the filament of pale magic that flitted across Marina’s broad, snub nose—and how Marina’s breath came steadier as the magic soaked into her dark skin. The magic had definitely come from Keeper; Marina’s spells usually had a golden glow to them, and never that silvery white. Aiyan heard Marina say something about her name before he was asleep again.

The third time, Keeper wasn’t there.

Marina had put Aiyan to bed, explaining that Keeper had gone with a group of hunters to investigate some signs of humans nearby to determine if they would need to move camp. “We haven’t moved camp since you joined the clan, I don’t think,” she’d said cheerfully as she tucked the blankets around him, making sure the misshapen doll Nansa had made for him was under the furs too. “It’s fun, really. The traveling part, anyway. The packing isn’t so great.”

She’d kept talking; he wasn’t sure how long. Her voice lulled him to sleep, or was it her hand rubbing circles on his shoulder?

The next time he heard her voice, it was a shriek of blind fear.

Aiyan almost disregarded it until the nagging feeling in his mind grew into a coherent thought: _Keeper’s not here. Keeper can’t calm her down._ He threw off his grogginess and his furs, knocking his doll to the floor, and hurried to the side of her bed. He tried to remember what Keeper did when Marina woke up like this—cast a spell? What spell? Why did it calm Marina down, and why didn’t Aiyan know it? Should he hug her? Aiyan wasn’t sure Marina wouldn’t send him flying if he touched her right then. Keeper spoke in Elvhen sometimes, but Aiyan didn’t know nearly enough of the language. He resolved to learn more until it occurred to him just what Elvhen he _did_ know.

He took a deep breath and began to sing.

“ _Elgara vallas, da’len, melava somniar. Mala taren aravas, ara ma’desen melar._ _Iras ma ghilas, da’len, are ma’nedan ashir? Dirthara lothlenan’as bal emma mala dir._ _Tel’enfenim, da’len, irassal ma ghilas. Ma garas mir renan—ara ma’athlan vhenas._ ”

When he finished, Marina wasn’t screaming anymore, but she was still shaking, so Aiyan sang the lullaby again. After the second time through, Marina told him, “Sing it again,” in a voice hoarse from screaming, so he did.

The last note died away, and Marina’s shoulders finally began to relax. Aiyan’s hand stopped an inch from her arm, but she nudged it a little as silent permission, so he pressed his palm to her shoulder in silence.

Marina was first to speak. “I hate my name.”

“Your…your name?” Babae had always told Aiyan that his name was precious. Mamae had given it to him before she left, and Mamae had loved him very much and been sorry to leave him so soon. “Didn’t your parents give it to you?”

“Parents?” Marina scoffed. “Didn’t have those. Or if I did, I didn’t know. Don’t remember. I was sold away from them pretty quick.”

“Sold,” Aiyan repeated. He didn’t know this word, in Common or Elvhen.

“Sold. You know. Someone paid money for me.”

The human traders had sometimes offered money in exchange for the clan’s goods. The clan had always refused, though. _What good is money to us?_ he had once heard a hunter scoff. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” Marina’s voice had gotten that sulky edge that it used to when she had to look after him. “Whatever. My master named me.” _Master,_ another word he didn’t know, and one that Marina spat as if it were a seed from an apple core that wasn’t yet ripe. Definitely someone she didn’t like. She said the word with too fierce a venom. “Marina. I don’t even know what it means, if it means anything. It wasn’t even really given to me. It was assigned. He didn’t care enough to _give_ it.”

Aiyan cocked his head and studied his—clanmate? Friend? Sister, maybe. Nansa said that a sister was a girl you lived with, right? “Do you want a different name?”

She returned his look quizzically. “Don’t know how I’d get one.”

“I could help. We could find you an Elvhen name. We could have your name mean something. We could ask Keeper what might—”

“No, I…I don’t want to tell Keeper just yet. But…a different name sounds nice. How would you figure one out?”

“Well, I’ve always thought Marina kind of sounds like _ma renan._ I think it means ‘my voice’ in Elvhen. I don’t know much Elvhen, though. Maybe I’m wrong.” Aiyan shrugged skinny shoulders.

“My voice… No. It doesn’t sound right. Too close. But I don’t want it too be too different, I guess. It would make it hard to get used to. Anything like it that you know?”

Aiyan racked his small mental dictionary of Elvhen. “Um… _renan_ kind of sounds like _revas,_ I guess.”

“And what’s _revas_ mean?”

“Freedom, I think. My old Keeper used to use it when he was talking about—”

“Freedom?” Marina’s voice was sharper. “It means freedom?”

“Yeah.”

“I want it. The _ma_ part means _my,_ right?”

“Yeah.”

“Marevas.” She tasted the word on her tongue. “My freedom.” A smile was growing on her face as, just for the joy of it, she repeated it one more time: “Marevas.

“That’s my name.”

—

—

Aiyan shifted from foot to foot until a hand on his shoulder stilled him. “Sorry,” he said automatically.

Marevas glanced down at him with a smirk. “I feel like you might fly into the air, you have so much energy right now.”

“Will I get to help teach them?” Aiyan asked eagerly.

Marevas’s smile softened, her hand moving to ruffle Aiyan’s shoulder-length hair. “Sure thing. You’ve been learning pretty well yourself.”

Aiyan positively beamed at the praise, and the Keeper smiled at Marevas over Aiyan’s head, nodding once in approval. _Has it really been four years? It seems like yesterday that Marevas wanted as little to do with Aiyan as possible._ She looked back out to see the two other elves barely yards away from the camp, and she cleared her throat softly. Marevas nudged Aiyan, and they both stood up straight, awaiting the arrival of their new clanmate.

“ _Andaran atish’an,_ ” the Keeper greeted again, bowing to the wanderer. He looked the same as ever, his violet eyes just as bright.

“I bring you Sethi, formerly of Clan Inansalath,” the wandering Keeper continued. He didn’t have to usher his charge forward at all; she gazed right at the others with a curious tilt of her head. “She is to be given to you to care for and rear.”

“I accept her,” Keeper said,. “She shall be one of ours, known as Sethi of Clan Lavellan.”

Sethi surveyed the three of them with sharp grey-green eyes, almost too sharp for her age. “You the ones he told me about?” she asked without preamble.

“They are,” the wandering Keeper said quietly. “Keeper Deshanna, and Marina and Aiyan.”

“Marevas,” she corrected him. “I changed it when I got my _vallaslin._ ”

His own _vallaslin_ crinkled around his eyes as he smiled at the name’s meaning. “And you, Aiyan? Do you remember what I told you when I brought you to Clan Lavellan?”

“Yes, Keeper,” Aiyan answered. “I won’t forget it.” 

“Y’didn’t tell me about _this._ ” Sethi reached out, too fast to see, and yanked on a lock of Aiyan’s hair.

Aiyan yelped in pain. “What was that for?” he demanded.

Sethi’s dark brows drew together in confusion. “What? I just never seen hair like that before. Looks like the sun.”

Aiyan scowled. “Well, it’s _my_ hair, so don’t touch it again!”

“Oh. Sorry.” Sethi shuffled her feet. “Won’t do that again, then.” She looked back up at Aiyan, looking the closest to shy any of them had yet seen her. “Wanna be friends?”

Before he quite knew what he was doing, Aiyan found himself nodding at this strange girl. “Friends? Sure.”

Sethi grinned. “I like you, Aiyan.”

This time, it was more than a sneaking suspicion Marevas had that she would know exactly where to look the next time trouble arose.

—

“It’s okay, Em,” her sister said desperately. “Just…calm down. Please?”

“No!” Emmalgar fumed. “It’s not _fair!_ ”

Aiyan paused mid-sentence to Nansa. “Emma? Lathbora? What’s the matter?”

Emmalgar whirled to face Aiyan, still in a remarkably towering rage for a slight nine-year-old. “Every time I ask someone to teach me how to use a sword, they _laugh!_ They look at me like I’m a stupid child! There are _plenty_ of hunters who use swords! Even _him!_ ” She pointed an accusing finger at Nansa, eyes still on Aiyan. “Why not me?”

“You’re still young,” Aiyan soothed. “There’ll be plenty of time of you to learn whatever you want, _lethallan._ ”

“I want to learn _now,_ ” Emmalgar insisted.

“I wanna be a hunter too!” Lathbora piped up.

“Being stubborn won’t get you much,” Aiyan warned. “And it certainly won’t get either of you trained.”

“You started training with Keeper when you were just six!” Emmalgar pointed out.

“Magic is dangerous, just like a sword,” Aiyan said softly. “But, unlike a sword, you can’t choose when you have to start training with it. Give me a moment, Lath,” he said, shrugging Emmalgar’s little sister off from shaking his shoulder. “It’s all right, Em. Just wait a year or two; someone will teach you. If they don’t, you can come to me— _wait your turn,_ Lathbora—and I’ll ask them to do it. Is that okay?”

Emmalgar huffed a sigh, even though her expression barely changed. “Okay.”

“Aiyan,” Nansa said sharply, receiving only a _hang-on-a-second_ glance in return.

“Atta girl,” Aiyan said warmly, ruffling Emmalgar’s black hair and kissing her forehead. “Dinner should be ready soon; the hunt came back very successful today. Vaelen and Nyvera both claim the kill, though—their argument is tonight’s entertainment, I think,” he chuckled.

“How long till—” Emmalgar cut off mid-word, looking down at her feet when they refused to move. “Aiyan!” she yelped, the anger finally shocked off her face. “What did you do that for?”

Aiyan looked down, too—to where Emmalgar’s feet were bound to the ground in a mass of twining green plants. “That wasn’t me,” he said dumbly. “I don’t…what?”

“That’s what we were trying to tell you,” Nansa said, folding his arms.

“The plants started doing that while you were arguing,” Lathbora supplied helpfully.

“Get it off!” Emmalgar shrieked, trying vainly to tug her feet away from the plants grasping at her.

“Calm down, Emma—let me.” Aiyan crouched, carefully untangling the plants, coaxing them away from each other. They were incredibly reluctant, and the fact that Emmalgar kept trying to tug her feet out didn’t help.

“Em, can I try?” Lathbora crouched next to Aiyan, her smaller hands sneaking themselves under his.

“Lath, no, you can’t just pull the plants…apart…” Aiyan trailed off as the grasses unweaved themselves and shrank docilely back to their places. He stared at Lathbora, and she grinned back.

“What’s going on?” Marevas called. “Aiyan?” She leaned back to look around an aravel at them. “What did Sethi do now?”

Aiyan found himself laughing along with Lathbora’s giggles of delight as he stood up again and turned to Marevas. “We have two new mages.”

—

“And that’s how the Dread Wolf escaped.” Sethi dropped her voice to barely a whisper, keeping Emmalgar’s and Lathbora’s gazes with her own intense eyes. “Some say…he’s still out there. Waiting. Biding his time. Until…RAH!” She jolted forward with a shout, and the two youngest mages shrieked in unison. Sethi nearly fell over in laughter, and she really did fall over when Aiyan swatted at the back of her head.

“Stop that!” he snapped.

“We’re _supposed_ to be practicing,” Marevas said, exasperated, as Lathbora and Sethi kept giggling. “I was _trying_ to show you—”

“Ah, I see the lesson has ended.” Keeper had arrived, ducking into her aravel and giving them all an appraising look. “Time for chores, then. Go on.”

“Thanks, Sethi,” Emmalgar muttered as she and her sister climbed out of the aravel. Sethi stuck her tongue out at Emmalgar as they parted, Lathbora to the aravel where their mother, Tilea, waited for her to help cook dinner, Emmalgar to the healer’s aravel to learn more about the plants that were so fond of her, Sethi to…well, who knew where, really?

The Keeper sighed as she sensed someone lingering behind her. “Yes, Aiyan?” she said, turning and placing her hands on her slim hips.

“There’s…something I don’t understand,” he began slowly, still sitting in their aravel, his dark eyes meeting hers. “You said that the world changes around us. Seasons, years, centuries. Right?”

“Yes, I said that,” Keeper answered.

“But we stay in one place in time. We long for Arlathan and wait for the day that our empire returns to us. If the world changes…why don’t we? Aren’t we part of the world?”

“Because we are Elvhen, Aiyan,” Keeper answered, putting her hands on his shoulders. He was nearly taller than her at fifteen, so much grown from the little boy he had been. “We are the last of the People, and never again shall we submit. Not to the humans, not to their ways.”

“But we want to survive, don’t we?” Aiyan argued. “Staying stuck in the past won’t do that! We’re part of this world; shouldn’t we change with it? Doesn’t that make sense?”

“No, _da’len,_ you didn’t listen,” the Keeper said patiently. “The People draw _strength_ from our history; we cannot forget it. We were once a great people, and we will be again.”

“Everyone keeps saying that.” Aiyan pulled himself out of her grip, stepping back and away from Keeper. “But look at us. We wander through the wilderness, the humans look down on us, and we barely survive. If we want to be a great people again, something has to change, doesn’t it? We can’t keep going on like this.”

“We can, and we will,” Keeper answered firmly. “The days of Arlathan may come back sooner than you think, _da’len._ There is already a Keeper in the south who has lived for hundreds of years. Some say he has regained some piece of the People’s immortality.”

“That’s one elf. What about all the others? There are thousands of us struggling to survive,” Aiyan argued, gesturing out to the circle of aravels as if to indicate every Dalish elf in the world. “And we’re no closer to Arlathan than we were the day the Dales fell. Keeper…”

“No,” she said firmly. “Go do your chores, Aiyan—I will hear no more. One day, you will understand.”

He threw one last unsettled look over his shoulder as he left, and as soon as he was out of sight, the Keeper sighed again. _Still the same impatient, reckless boy. So close to adulthood, and yet still such a child. He will learn, in time,_ she reassured herself. _If not from me, then from Marevas or the other adults of the clan. Someday, he will have to learn, or leave._


	2. Lethallin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an arlathvhen and a confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theres kissing in here. awkward teenage kissing

“Sethi!”

The fifteen-year-old looked up, unconcerned, from the hands where she held the skull of some small animal with two mage-lights placed cleverly in the eye sockets. “Yes, _lethallin?_ ”

“You have _got_ to stop doing this,” Aiyan scolded, snatching the skull from her hands to put emphasis on the imperative. “Lath runs to _me_ every time you prank her.”

“I know,” Sethi said blithely, eyes on the elf cowering behind Aiyan. “That’s why it’s so fun.” But she held a hand out to Lathbora. “C’mon. Didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just mage-lights, see?” She lit a similar glow in her hand. “Skull’s not haunted. Just meant to scare you, and not this bad. C’mon, _lethallan,_ ” she wheedled.

“ _Harel’len,_ ” Aiyan said fondly, using the nickname born of Keeper’s exasperation. Lathbora stuck her tongue out at Sethi, and both girls grinned as Aiyan continued, “No one’s gonna trust you if you keep doing this, _lethallan._ It’s Arlathvhen, so behave yourself, for Keeper’s sake?”

“Alright,” Sethi said amiably, pushing herself to her feet and snuffing out her mage-light. “If you say so, Aiyan.” She hugged Lathbora to her side when the nine-year-old ran back to her.

“Aiyan?”

He froze. He _knew_ that voice.

“ _Lethallin?_ ” Sethi said, her voice hitching up in as close to fear as she ever got. “ _Lethallin,_ what’s wrong?” She grabbed his arm, trying to make him look at her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It is you, isn’t it? Aiyan.”

His heart beating in his throat, Aiyan turned to see another elf, the same height as him, with exactly the same dark eyes. Aiyan’s voice caught in his throat until the older elf’s hand hesitated out, as if trying to reach him through some viscous liquid. “Aiyan. It’s me,” he said with emotion choking his voice. “Do you remember me?”

_Of course it’s you,_ Aiyan wanted to say. _How could I forget you?_ But only one soft word escaped him:

“Babae.”

—

“You’ve really grown,” Telran said, reaching out to brush his son’s hair back as they sat together. “Somehow, I always imagined the little boy.”

“And you’re just the same,” Aiyan answered, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“Just the same?” Telran laughed. “No. Ten years changes you even when you’re grown, _da’len._ But you…you look like your mother. I knew you would, even when you were just a child. But, Creators. I thought you _were_ her when I first caught sight of you. And then I saw your eyes.”

“Keeper!”

Telran finally turned from his son. “ _Vhenan._ You remember Aiyan.”

The woman only had to take one look at Aiyan for her face to light up. “ _Da’len!_ ”

“Aiyan, this is Rev’asha, my First,” his father said fondly as the woman kissed him on the cheek.

“I held you when you were a newborn,” Rev’asha told Aiyan, kissing his brow. “You were a wee little thing.”

“It’s good to see you again,” Aiyan said politely, allowing the kiss.

“Aiyan,” Telran said softly, taking the woman’s hand in his, “Rev’asha is also…my promised. We…we’ll be bonded in the spring. I wanted to ask you…well, if you approved. You’re my only family.”

Aiyan looked from one to the other, taking in their intertwined fingers, Rev’asha’s bright green gaze and the pronounced bump in her abdomen, the light behind the deep brown of Telran’s eyes. _Do mine look like that when I look at…_

“Of course.” Aiyan nearly surprised himself when the words come out of his mouth. “If I have any say. I haven’t lived with you for ten years; I think you know better than I do in this case.”

“I still value your word,” Telran said quietly. “You may be with another clan now, but you’re still my son. You always will be.”

“You’re a Keeper now,” Aiyan disagreed. “You have your clan, and I have mine. The opinion you should ask is your clan’s. If they’ve already said yes…then I have no right to tell you no.” He stood. “Thank you for coming to find me, Babae. But…I should return to my own clan.”

“Aiyan, wait,” Telran said, catching Aiyan’s hand with his own. “Could you ever see yourself…returning? I don’t have a Second—you could come back and be my Second. I miss you, _da’len._ ”

Aiyan hesitated, looked from one to the other, from deep brown eyes to intense green. _She was Keeper’s Second when I was living with them. I remember she was nervous to be left alone with me—was afraid she’d hurt me. And now…_ His eyes skipped to Rev’asha’s swollen belly again. _She must have changed. I hope she has. …I know I have._

Aiyan straightened his back. “Thank you for your offer. But my place is with my clan. I…I miss you, too, Babae, but I need to take care of them.” He dropped his gaze and finished in a whisper, “Please understand.”

Telran studied his son for a long moment, memorized the blond hair tied back at the nape, the single braid that swung forward when Aiyan ducked his head, the sharp jawline that he could see as Aiyan turned his face away, averting his eyes. And Telran’s nod started slow, just barely an incline of the head before he murmured, “ _Ma nuvenin._ ” He pushed himself to his feet and took the two steps to Aiyan. “Thank you for letting me have this time with you, Aiyan.” He touched his forehead to his son’s, their eyes closing as they lingered together for the last time, father and son.

They breathed one last “thank you” at the same time.

—

“You look troubled, Aiyan,” Keeper murmured as she pushed a cup of warm halla wine into Aiyan’s hands and sat down next to him. “Sethi tells me you saw your father again—is that right?”

Aiyan nodded mutely, afraid that if he opened his mouth, words would come rushing out and he wouldn’t be able to stop them. He held the cup in his hands as tightly as he kept his lips pressed together.

“He asked you to come back to his clan, didn’t he?” Aiyan looked up, alarmed, but Keeper only finished, “And you said no.” She looked beside her to her apprentice, smiling. “He sent me a message a while back, after his old Keeper died, asking me if I would allow you to come back. I told him that it was up to you. You’re nearly grown; you can decide for yourself where you want to be.” She paused before saying, quieter, “For what it is worth…I am glad you chose to stay.”

Aiyan watched her as she sipped from her own cup. Ten years had been long enough to learn to catch each sign: her hands clutching the cup as she lowered it, the slight downturn of her lips, her eyes gazing out at the clan preparing for their first night of sleep at the Arlathvhen but not really watching. “Keeper?”

“Hmm?” She didn’t seem to quite hear him, and she didn’t look at him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

She looked at him then, with a rueful smile that spoke of a kind of pride in his ability to read her. “A Keeper from the south speaks of a Blight. Already ended, do not worry,” she assured Aiyan as his ears pricked in alarm. “It was contained to Ferelden, apparently, but it led to a change of leadership in that country. This Keeper—a very young woman named Lanaya—told us of the three who defeated it—a human, a dwarf, and an elf. A strange combination, to be sure.”

“That’s not what has you worried, though,” Aiyan said softly as Keeper’s eyes landed on Marevas, sitting alone far from the other young adults at the Arlathvhen, whose nighttime revels were only just beginning.

“No,” Keeper finally admitted. “No, it is not.”

Aiyan’s cup was empty by the time he spoke again, his eyes on Marevas too now. “We never go north anymore. Not even close to Antiva or Rivain.”

“There are slavers to the north, Aiyan. You know this.”

“There’s slavers everywhere, Keeper.”

“They are stronger in the north, so close to Tevinter.”

“And Marevas is scared of them.”

“Wouldn’t you be, had you spent the first twelve years of your life in the hands of a magister who was too fond of his whip?”

“Yes, and I would trust my clanmates to protect me if we were within a hundred leagues of him, which we never are.”

“Aiyan,” Keeper said warningly, lowering her cup.

“I think you’re scared of them too, Keeper.”

“Go to bed, Aiyan.” Her tone was one that would brook no argument.

“Keeper, if you’d just—”

“This conversation is over. Put the others to bed, and then go to bed yourself. You’re too young to be in the courting dance; you may as well go to sleep.” She paused, and when Aiyan didn’t move, she took his cup. “ _Now,_ Aiyan. We will talk more in the morning.”

Aiyan recognized the dismissal and left, saying nothing about how whenever Keeper said they would talk more in the morning, they never did.

—

—

“No!”

Nansa’s head snapped up from the half-skinned rabbit in his hands when he heard the familiar voice raised in anger. _Aiyan._

“I’m not going to. At least…not for a few years. I’m…sorry I raised my voice, Keeper. I’ll leave. I need to…to clear my head.”

Nansa kept his eyes trained on the Keeper’s aravel, even as his mother snapped her fingers in front of his face and ordered, “Nansa, concentrate!” Aiyan stormed out into the camp, running a hand through his long hair to push it away from his face. Nansa couldn’t hear the hiss of frustration that escaped through his best friend’s teeth, but he knew Aiyan well enough for his mind to supply the sound for him.

Re’nehn followed her son’s line of sight and sighed. “Give me the knife and the rabbit,” she said resignedly, holding out her hand. “Go take care of your mage. Mythal knows he’s too busy taking care of everyone else to do it himself.”

“Thank you, Mae!” Nansa pushed the skinning knife and the rabbit into his mother’s hands and jumped up. He did his best to keep himself to a quick walk as he crossed the camp to his best friend. “Aiyan?”

Aiyan’s head jolted up, startled from his agitation. “Nansa?” He sighed and gave his best friend a rueful smile. “How do you always know when I’m upset?”

Nansa shrugged, letting his face fall into the lopsided smile he knew Aiyan liked. “Hunter’s intuition?”

“Nugshit,” Aiyan laughed, his shoulders losing their tension. “You’ve never had intuition of any kind.”

“C’mon,” Nansa invited, slipping his hand into Aiyan’s. “There’s a stream nearby. You can tell me what happened when we’re there.”

Aiyan allowed himself to be pulled, the smile coming easily to his face, as it always did with Nansa. Blue eyes flashed back every few seconds, making sure Aiyan was still there.

Keeper watched them go, brows lowered and arms folded until another voice from inside the aravel ventured, “Keeper…”

“Do not, Marevas,” she cut him off without turning to look at him. “This does not concern you.”

“It concerns me more than you want to admit,” Marevas said under her breath, but at a sharp _I-heard-that_ look from the Keeper, she inclined her head once, curtly, and left, eyes still just that small bit harder.

—

“So what happened?” Nansa kept his voice soft; Aiyan never responded well to demands when he was upset.

Aiyan didn’t look at Nansa’s face, and he didn’t answer for a long time, instead playing with Nansa’s hand, trailing his fingertips along the creases and calluses until Nansa snatched his hand away with a laugh of, “That tickles!”

“Keeper wants me to promise myself.”

Nansa stopped mid-laugh, his heart dropping to his stomach. “What?”

“She says it’s my duty to the clan.” Aiyan still didn’t look at Nansa, but drew his knees up to his thin chest, wrapping his arms around them. “To choose a girl and bond with her when we’re both old enough. I…I don’t _want_ to bond with any of the girls in the clan. Marevas is too old for me, Emmalgar and Lathbora are too young…and I can’t see myself ending up bonded to Sarita or Ellara or—or even Sethi. I love Sethi, sure, but…not like that.”

“Is there anyone…you _do_ love like that?”

Aiyan finally looked up at Nansa, cautious until he saw the open hope in his best friend’s blue eyes. “I…I don’t know. I think…I think there might be someone.”

“Someone?” Nansa prompted softly.

“A…a friend of mine.” Aiyan’s voice was barely a murmur, and he let his eyes flick away again. “He’s…he’s always taken care of me; he’s just…always been there. From the day I first came to the clan. I think…”

Nansa’s hand turned Aiyan’s face back to him, gently, gently. “No,” he whispered. “You _know._ ”

“I know,” Aiyan repeated, his voice just as soft, as Nansa closed the distance between them.

It was clumsy at first, the kiss. Inexperience and sudden eagerness collided like their mouths, their teeth clacking on each other. Aiyan drew away with a yelp, and Nansa hesitated, but Aiyan grabbed the front of Nansa’s shirt and pulled him back in, keeping his mouth closed this time.

It didn’t last long, but it was sweet, and its end found them lying next to each other in the grass, just looking at each other with pupils blown wide and ears relaxed in exhilaration. Nansa was first to speak, trying out a word neither of them had ever used before:

“ _Vhenan_.”

—

“They look beautiful on you,” Nansa said softly, hesitating to touch Aiyan’s face. “Can I…”

“They don’t hurt anymore,” Aiyan answered, guiding his lover’s hand to his cheek so Nansa could trace the dark red _vallaslin:_ the gently curving line along Aiyan’s cheekbone, the crescent and the diamond on his forehead, the arrow pointing down the bridge of his nose. “And I’m officially Keeper’s Second now,” Aiyan added, closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling of Nansa’s fingertips. “Protector of the clan.”

“Mmh,” Nansa murmured, his hand going under Aiyan’s chin to draw him closer. “Then am I the protector’s protector?”

Aiyan chuckled, his eyes opening to once again take in the day-old deep blue ink making twisting branches on Nansa’s forehead. He reached up to trace the line splitting Nansa’s bottom lip. “I suppose you are, aren’t you?”

They were much better at the kissing by now, their lips fitting together much neater, Nansa nipping at Aiyan’s bottom lip—they’d found out Aiyan liked that a great deal. It had been a few months earlier, lying by the stream again for a few stolen moments, and Aiyan had gasped when Nansa first tried it.

“Mm, _vhenan,_ ” Aiyan murmured, eyes still closed, lips a breath away from Nansa’s. “The stream is waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter through no fault of its own. ch 1 got some scenes added in the revision process; ch 2 didn't.


	3. Vhenan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things fall apart.

“This is the longest disappearance yet,” Nansa said softly. “It’s been hours now. Where is she?”

“I don’t know.” Aiyan kept his eyes fixed on the campfire in front of him. “She never says where she’s going or when she’s coming back, but this…” He finally looked up at the gap between two aravels where he’d seen Sethi slipping away hours before sunset. “She’s not getting away with it this time.”

“Please go to bed, _vhenan,_ ” Nansa said softly, putting a hand on Aiyan’s back.

“What’s gotten into her?” Aiyan put his face in his hands. “Ever since she got her _vallaslin,_ she’s been doing this more and more often. _Why?_ ”

“I’ll stay up and watch for her,” Nansa offered. “You need your rest.”

“I’m Second,” Aiyan reminded him. “I’m the clan’s protector.”

“And I’m _your_ protector,” Nansa answered with a soft kiss to Aiyan’s temple. “Please, Aiyan…”

“I can’t,” Aiyan insisted. “This is Sethi we’re talking about. If she gets hurt…”

“She’s my friend too,” Nansa reminded Aiyan. “And you’ve done enough. I’ll watch for her, and I’ll take the blame in the morning like you’ve done every time. Let me do something for you this time.”

Aiyan let Nansa gently turn his face with a hand, but stayed him with a hand on his chest. “You go to bed, Nansa. Sethi’s my responsibility.”

“I’m your _what?_ ”

Both of them swung around to find Sethi behind them, arms folded, face dirty, and furious. “Let’s get one thing straight, _Second,_ ” she snapped. “I’m no one’s _responsibility._ I’m not a child anymore, see?” She gestured to the _vallaslin_ on her face, half-hidden by dirt.

“Sethi, we know you’re not a child—”

“Then stop _acting_ like one!” Aiyan snarled, whirling on her and cutting off Nansa’s attempt at placation. “This shit was all right when you were fifteen, but now? Now, you’re an adult! You’re nineteen! Lathbora’s taken a leaf out of your book, wandering off on hunting trips, making her hunting partners panic, and then giving some wide-eyed excuse when she comes back! If you insist on doing this, I’m going to insist on looking after you!”

“Look after yourself,” Sethi hissed right back. “And your boyfriend.” She tore her shoulder out from under Nansa’s touch with a violent movement that brought her hand up as if to strike him, and he flinched. “Keeper knows about you two, and she’s not happy about it.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Aiyan demanded, his brows drawing together at her threatening tone and her evident indifference to Nansa backing off a few steps with cautious eyes trained on her.

“You obviously know she won’t approve. Why else would you have to get out of camp to go and fuck? When you two stop sneaking off for your little trysts, I’ll stop sneaking off too,” Sethi said acidly. “Until then, you have no right to tell me what to do.”

“I’m trying to keep you _safe!_ ”

“Enough.”

Sethi whirled, and Aiyan’s and Nansa’s backs straightened automatically. Keeper stood just a few yards away, arms folded and eyes hard. “I know about Aiyan and Nansa, Sethi,” she said in a low voice. “You are right; I disapprove. But I disapprove more of your escapades. When I called you _Harel’len,_ it was not a wish that you would bring misfortune to the clan by attracting danger. Go to bed. I will speak with you more in the morning.”

Aiyan watched her go, noting the hand that reached out from a shadow, almost unseen in the dark, to touch her shoulder. She took one look at who it was and shrugged the hand off with a scoff. _Marevas?_

“Aiyan!” Keeper snapped her fingers in front of his face, forcing his attention back to her. “Are you listening?”

“Sorry, Keeper,” he said automatically.

“I asked you to promise yourself to a bondmate three years ago. You refused me then, saying you would wait a few years. ‘A few years’ have passed, and still you have not—”

“Why can’t I just bond with Nansa?” Aiyan blurted.

Keeper’s jaw dropped in affront as Nansa drew in a quick breath behind Aiyan. Aiyan felt himself beginning to shake, but he forced himself to swallow it back and stand his ground. “If you know about us, then why can’t—”

“ _Silence,_ ” Keeper hissed. “You know your duty, Aiyan. I have told you countless times since you were a child—the Dalish live to carry on our blood. Do you not want this clan to survive?”

“I never said that!” Aiyan snapped. “You’re not listening!”

“No, _you_ are not listening. You will _not_ bond with Enan’sahlin. I forbid it.”

“Keeper.” Marevas’s voice was softer than either of theirs, and it was accompanied by her hand hesitating to touch Keeper’s shoulder. “Sethi’s hurt. She tried to hide it, but she needs healing.”

Keeper treated Aiyan to three more seconds of a blazing stare, returned in kind, before she whirled to storm back to the aravel she shared with her apprentices. Marevas sighed and turned back to the other two, hugging herself and hunching her shoulders. “Nansa…go back to your aravel. Get some sleep. I need to talk to Aiyan.”

Aiyan’s jaw clenched as he watched Nansa look briefly at him before nodding and turning to return home. He looked one last time over his shoulder before he started away, his fingers trailing out of Aiyan’s. “You don’t approve either, do you?” Aiyan asked bitterly, his eyes still on Nansa’s back.

“Actually, I understand.” Marevas’s voice stayed quiet. “I’ve vouched for you to Keeper for the past three years.”

“Understand?” Aiyan demanded, turning to face Marevas. “How could you _understand?_ It’s not like Keeper just flat-out denied _you—_ ” He broke off with a hiss, looking away.

“You’ll notice that I haven’t promised myself to anyone, let alone bonded with them,” Marevas answered. “And I’m almost thirty.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. “You…you don’t like any of the men in the clan that way?”

“I don’t like _anyone_ that way, Aiyan. Never have. Don’t think I ever will.”

Aiyan looked up, his eyes agonizingly hopeful. “And…Keeper is all right with it?”

“She’s accepted it.” Marevas shrugged, finally loosening her posture. “She’ll accept you, too, eventually. For now…” She put a hand on Aiyan’s shoulder, heavy and comforting. “For now, _I_ accept you, _lethallin._ You’re still my clanmate—and my friend.”

Aiyan threw his arms around Marevas, hugged her tight just as she hugged him. Hope rose in his chest, achingly painful, choking him, and he finally allowed his tears to fall.

—

—

For the third time in a day, Aiyan found himself ducking out of Keeper’s line of sight and cursing himself. _Coward. She’s still your Keeper. If you want anything to change, you have to talk to her, not avoid her whenever she looks your way._

“Aiyan.”

He jumped when a hand placed itself over his mouth. “I need to tell you something,” a voice whispered. “And I need you to not tell anyone else.”

Aiyan smiled when the hand removed itself. “ _Vhenan,_ you can just tell me when you want to sneak off. No need to scare me.” He turned, but his face fell when he saw Nansa’s expression. “Nansa?”

“It’s Lathbora,” Nansa whispered. “We were on a hunting trip. I turned around—and she was gone.”

“She wanders off all the time,” Aiyan reminded Nansa, a hand on his lover’s chest to calm him. “She was probably distracted by a bird. Gods know she loves to talk to them with her magic.”

“That’s the thing,” Nansa hissed. “It’s been _hours._ The sun’s going down, and she’s still out there. I need to find her. Don’t—just don’t tell Emmalgar or Keeper, alright? If we’re not back by morning…”

“Don’t say that,” Aiyan cut him off. “I’m coming with you.”

“No. No, you have to stay here,” Nansa whispered, grasping Aiyan’s arms. “I need to find her; she’s my responsibility. Just…I needed someone to know. I’ll bring her home. I promise.” He leaned forward and kissed Aiyan once, fleeting, before disappearing back into the woods with a promise of, “I’ll see you soon,” and Aiyan still reaching after him.

_Lathbora, Lathbora,_ kept running through Aiyan’s mind as he continued. _Her name means “lost love.” She was born only a few months after her father died, and she’s named after her mother’s broken heart. No wonder Nansa is so determined to bring her back without telling Emma. If Tilea loses someone else…_ He looked up to the sky, already beginning to darken to indigo and gray. _Creators protect them all._

—

Aiyan kept his arms folded tightly and a fierce gaze on the edge of the forest, as if his sheer will could bring Nansa and Lathbora back. Night was fully fallen, stars in the sky and fires down to embers all over the camp. _They have to come back._

“ _Lethallin,_ that stare could melt rock.” Sethi’s drawl from right next to him startled him. “What’s gotten into you now?”

“Lath and Nansa still haven’t come back,” Emmalgar observed, approaching the two of them. “Lath probably wandered off again.”

“Further than ever,” Sethi suggested. “She never fucks around past sunset, does she?”

“Nah, Mamae’s fits at her are bad enough without that. It’s like we’ve never heard before that Babae died in a hunting accident.”

Aiyan suddenly put a hand in front of each of them. “Quiet.” The trees were rustling, and that wasn’t the wind he heard moving through the branches.

Sethi slipped her staff off her back, a mage-light igniting in one of her hands and floating out toward the woods. “Who’s there?” she called.

“Thank Mythal.” A figure stumbled out into the clearing, strangely hunched, and Sethi’s mage-light shot over to reveal Nansa with Lathbora draped over his back. “She needs a healer, _now._ ”

Aiyan stared, horrified, at what he could see of Lathbora as Emmalgar swayed next to him. Lathbora’s fine-featured face, so often laughing, was covered in blood. Her clothes were torn, and bile rose in Aiyan’s throat at the extra bend in her left arm and the shard of white poking out. He was about to call for help, but Emma’s wordless scream got there first.

—

Aiyan held a shaking Emmalgar close, rocking gently back and forth and humming softly, even as his own anxiety consumed him. _Lathbora will be all right. She has to be all right,_ he told himself firmly, even as his traitorous mind kept presenting him with the image of Lathbora’s bloodied face or the sound of the unconscious groan she’d made when Keeper and Marevas took her off Nansa’s back.

Nansa and Sethi sat around the rekindled fire too, silent and staring into the flames. Aiyan glanced around the camp, to each fire, where everyone sat waiting. It was like when someone was giving birth and the entire clan stayed up to hear news of the baby, but this time the vigil was dead silence rather than excited chatter. Only the sisters’ mother and their Aunt Yarena were missing, Yarena comforting Tilea after she’d fainted at the sight of her daughter so near death.

Nansa was first to look up, first to say sharply, “Emma.”

Emmalgar turned to see Keeper stepping out of her aravel, looking absolutely exhausted. “Keeper?” Emma called. “Keeper, what’s—”

“She’ll live.”

Emmalgar sagged with relief, and Aiyan caught her again as she finally began to cry. “Can she see her?”

Keeper nodded once, tired. “She’s sleeping now. Marevas is watching over her. Go ahead.”

Emmalgar tore out of Aiyan’s arms, stumbling toward the aravel and into it to see her little sister as Keeper turned to the other three who had been sitting around the fire. “How long?” she asked, addressing Nansa.

“She slipped away late in the afternoon,” Nansa answered promptly. “I went looking for her only—only after an hour or so. She’s usually back by then,” he finished guiltily.

“I understand,” Keeper sighed. “Did you see who did this?”

“Who?” Aiyan noted. “Not what?”

“This was not the work of an animal,” Keeper said heavily. “There were marks of blades on him, and bruises around her throat and on her body.”

Sethi hissed her anger out between her clenched teeth, one hand clutching her staff with a white-knuckled grip. “Do we know who did it?”

“Yes,” Nansa answered quietly. “They weren’t all there, I don’t think, but…there were three bodies around her. The others left her for dead. They were human, though.”

Keeper’s face hardened for a second. “I doubt we will know who exactly did this until Lathbora wakes, and only if she can tell us. I care not, so long as she survives. In the meantime…”

“In the meantime, we look for the bastards ourselves,” Sethi growled. “I’m going.”

“No, you are _not,_ ” Keeper said sharply. “You will not attract more attention to our clan and do more damage than already has been done. We stay away from human settlements for a reason, _Harel’len._ Do not bring more misfortune to us.”

“But I—”

“Stay here, Sethi.” Aiyan put a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t want you getting hurt too. Please, _lethallan._ ”

She looked at him for several moments, and for the last second before she looked away, they saw in each other’s eyes the children they had been together. “Alright. If you say so, Aiyan,” she said softly as she looked back to Keeper. “Can we go see Lath?”

“It’s best if only one goes at a time,” Keeper answered. “She’s still healing, and will be for a while. You may go see her.”

Sethi hurried to the aravel, vengeance forgotten or at least left alone for the moment, and the Keeper followed her with a slower, tired tread. As Sethi clambered into the aravel, Marevas stumbled out, her dark skin looking ashy and many curls of her hair springing wildly from the puff of a bun she usually kept them in. The rest of the camp broke into murmuring and headed for their own aravels. Armed with the news that their clanmate would not die, they could face the night once more.

Aiyan felt a tug on his hand and turned, letting Nansa pull him into a tight embrace. “I thought I was too late,” Nansa whispered. “Creators, there was so much blood. I never would have forgiven myself if…”

Aiyan held Nansa to him. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “She’s going to live, Nansa.”

“And when Sethi said she was going to go find them…I was ready to go with her. Not even to find the people who did that to Lath. To protect _her_ from them. I don’t want anyone else hurt, Aiyan. Especially not her. The way I found Lath…I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Something pricked at Aiyan about the way Nansa spoke of Sethi, but he brushed it away. “She’s going to be all right. And Sethi won’t try to get revenge. Keeper’ll have her head if she does.”

“That’s another thing,” Nansa said, drawing away. “Keeper. She barely seemed to care about how Lath got hurt. As soon as I said they were human, she stopped asking, and stopped Sethi from going because she didn’t want to attract attention.”

“I know.” Aiyan put a hand on Nansa’s chest in a familiar gesture, and Nansa covered it with one of his own as Aiyan continued, “I’ve known for a long time—Keeper will do anything to keep us away from humans. For now…for now, we should be glad Lath is alive.”

Nansa pulled him into another hug for several seconds, leaving him with a kiss on the brow before heading back to his family’s aravel. Aiyan could see the falter in Nansa’s usual stride, and he silently compared it to the cracks he saw in everyone’s demeanor these days.

—

Emmalgar tightened her belt, plain leather like humans favored, mind on what her baby sister had said of her attackers in the weakest voice Em had ever heard from her. Human hunters from a village only a few miles away, angry at the clan’s occupation of the woods and then, when Lath had panicked and lashed out with her magic, scared of the mage. And, like Keeper had taught them, humans were most dangerous when scared.

Her ears pricked for any sign of anyone else moving in camp. They should all have been asleep—she’d waited long enough, right?

“Em?”

Evidently not.

She whirled, staff already in hand, and her clanmate raised his hands to his shoulders—empty, unarmed, nonthreatening. “Don’t try to stop me,” Emmalgar said, making her voice as forbidding as possible.

“I just want to keep you safe,” Aiyan said. “I’m Second. It’s my duty to protect the clan.”

“I don’t care about _safe_ anymore,” Emmalgar snapped. “Is Lath _safe?_ Was she safe when—” She cut herself off with a harsh breath through her teeth. “No. Safe doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It matters to me, and it matters to the clan,” Aiyan answered steadily. He chanced a step toward her. “Em, your magic is for growing things, coaxing them to live. Not killing them.”

Emmalgar turned her back to him. “And Lath’s is too,” she said, her voice shaking. “And look what she managed to do.”

“Emma.” Aiyan made an effort to keep his voice from being accusing. “She did that, and she won’t be able to use any more magic for days, even without her injuries. She exhausted herself fighting those humans.”

“I won’t be fighting,” Emmalgar said darkly. “I don’t intend to give them the time to turn it into a fight.”

“All right,” Aiyan said.

Emmalgar, ready to continue arguing, pulled up short. “What?”

“I won’t tell anyone. If Keeper finds out, I’ll tell her I sent you to do it. She’ll…she’ll believe that. I can at least protect you that way.”

Emmalgar blinked—once, twice. “Thank you.” It turned up at the end like a question.

“Before you go.”

Emmalgar stilled and let him lean in to kiss her forehead. A bare forehead—she didn’t even have her _vallaslin_ yet. Still barely more than a child, and ready to kill.

“Come back when you’re done,” Aiyan whispered against Emmalgar’s forehead, his hands still gently gripping her upper arms. “Make me that promise—that you’ll come back. Lath is going to need you.”

“I’ll come back,” Emmalgar said, softer than before. She hesitated before saying, “ _Ma serannas, lethallin._ ”

“ _Dareth shiral_.”

—

Aiyan could feel himself beginning to shake as he watched Keeper storm toward him, but he stood his ground, the aravel at his back. “Let—me—by,” Keeper snarled, pulling herself up to her full height, only a few inches shorter than Aiyan.

“No,” he replied. “Emma’s not to blame.”

“Oh?” Keeper snapped. “Then who, in Fen’harel’s name, _is_ responsible for this—this disaster?”

“Blame me if you need someone to blame,” Aiyan answered, proud of how steady he kept his voice. “I sent her.”

“You _what?_ ”

Aiyan shouted in surprise and pain as Keeper grabbed the thin braid hanging by his face to yank him down to her height. “You sent Emmalgar to attack a group of humans? You used one of your—one of _our_ apprentices—to exact revenge? Did you even _think_ of what this would do to Tilea so soon after Lathbora nearly died, you—” She burst into a stream of curses, Common and Elvhen peppered together, questioning Aiyan’s parentage, the circumstances of his conception, and whether he’d been dropped on his head as an infant. Finally, in the middle of a speculation on whether Fen’harel himself had been present at Aiyan’s birth, she cut herself off, taking a deep breath and finally letting go of his hair.

“I…am sorry I lost control like that, Aiyan,” she said through gritted teeth, rubbing her temples. “Go back to our aravel. I’ll speak with _you_ later. Neither you nor Emmalgar is allowed to leave camp until I say otherwise.”

“Keeper—”

“ _Go._ ”

She pointed behind her, in the direction of their aravel, and Aiyan stayed only long enough to say, “Please…just go easy on her. Like you said, Tilea’s had enough, and I think Em and Lath have too.”

Keeper almost smiled as he left. _Still as soft a heart as ever._ “ _Ma nuvenin._ ”

—

—

The news came on a day in the heat of a Free Marches summer from a pair of hunters who cut their hunt short to sprint back to camp and tell Keeper.

“Come in, Aiyan.” Keeper sounded more tired than ever as Aiyan climbed into their aravel. The four of them sat in a circle: Faleron and Elowyn across from Keeper and Marevas.

Aiyan assessed each face silently before asking, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“War,” Elowyn said simply. “The humans’ mage Circles have rebelled, and the templars are fighting them all over the Free Marches, possibly all over Thedas.”

“Thank you,” Keeper said, her head in one hand. “You may go.” The two hunters crept out of the aravel, and Keeper looked up at her First and her Second. “We should move. If we are near enough to a settlement to hear news of war…”

“What if the war spreads?” Aiyan asked. “Will we be able to outrun it?”

“We’re going to try,” Keeper said. “We will protect our clan. Aiyan, organize the hunters into a defense force in case the war comes near us. Marevas, tell everyone to begin packing. We move at dawn.”

“Does she really believe we can avoid a war?” Aiyan whispered as soon as he and Marevas were out of Keeper’s aravel.

“Keeper will protect us,” Marevas answered firmly. “She’s going to keep us safe.” She glanced back at the aravel once, uncertainty flashing across her face. “I hope.”

—

—

“You’re quiet, _vhenan._ ”

Aiyan didn’t react at first to Nansa’s words or the fingertips trailing gently up his bare chest. He kept his eyes on the sky, brow furrowed, until Nansa prompted, “Was it that bad?”

“No.” Aiyan finally turned his head, smiling up at Nansa, whose head was propped up on the hand not tracing idle circles around Aiyan’s collarbone. “No, it was as good as ever.” He reached a hand up to run his fingers through Nansa’s messy black hair.

“Then what’s bothering you?” Nansa asked softly, his hand moving to push a lock of Aiyan’s hair out of his face.

Aiyan’s face fell as he looked into Nansa’s honest eyes. “You’ve been…speaking of Sethi a lot lately.”

“Are you jealous?” Nansa asked. “I’ll stop, if you—”

“No. No, keep speaking of her.” Aiyan finally dropped his gaze. “It’s best if you do.”

“What do you mean?” Dread rose in Nansa’s throat. “What are you talking about?”

“If you have feelings for her, you should promise yourself to her,” Aiyan said, very quietly.

“But I love _you!_ ” Nansa insisted, rolling Aiyan onto his back and propping himself up over his lover.

“You love Sethi too, don’t you?” Aiyan reached up to Nansa’s face. “It’s all right. It’s…” He changed tactics and pushed Nansa off him, sitting up and reaching for his shirt. “It’s better this way.”

Nansa grabbed Aiyan’s wrist, already talking. “No, no, what are you saying? Are you ending it? _Vhenan!_ ”

“You, at least, don’t deserve Keeper’s ire,” Aiyan told him firmly, pulling himself from Nansa’s grasp and pushing himself to his feet. “If you love Sethi, promise yourself to her. Be happy. Mythal knows she needs someone to keep her grounded.”

Nansa had already opened his mouth again when something reached their ears—a crashing through the undergrowth of the forest. Both of them froze before someone came into view, hair tangled and wild, panting. “Sethi!” Aiyan snapped. “Do you _mind_ —”

He cut off as she came into full view and looked up at them. Her eyes were wide and terrified, and her face and her hands were smeared with blood. “Templars,” she gasped. “Got in a fight.

“They want me dead.”


	4. Protector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things are broken.

“I…I think I lost them.” Sethi reported. She kept a hand pressed to her side, even as blood trickled between her fingers. “I might have killed one of them. I’m not sure. I was…Creators, I was _scared._ I’ve never felt that before. My magic was just…beyond reach. I couldn’t touch it. The world slamming down around me…”

“And you led them straight here.” Keeper’s voice was hard with cold anger. “Did you think of that? You led a band of templars straight to our camp.”

“They were going to kill me!” Sethi protested. “Where else was I supposed to go?”

“Away from the camp, so as to not endanger the clan?” Keeper suggested.

“Are you saying I should have died rather than come to find help?” Sethi demanded.

“I’m saying that this is at least partly your fault, and that you need to stop relying on others to fix your mistakes, _Harel’len,_ ” Keeper snapped.

“Keeper,” Aiyan said sharply as Emmalgar and Lathbora and Nansa stared at her, disbelieving.

Sethi was already talking, her body starting to shake with too many emotions to bottle up. “I am not to blame,” she forced out. “Do you think I wanted this?” She finally took her hand away from her side, thrusting it out, showing Keeper the blood smeared on it. “I came here for _help,_ not to get accused of doing one more thing wrong! I’m always your scapegoat. Ever since the day you first called me _Harel’len,_ it’s been a brand on my face, and everything’s been my fault!”

“Sethi.” Nansa tried reaching a placating hand out to her.

“No, Nansa!” she shouted, ripping her arm out of his grasp. “I’m fucking sick of it! I’m sick of being your _Harel’len,_ of being blamed for everything that goes wrong! I’m not—I’m not…” She broke off, drawing a shuddering breath with tears shining in her eyes. “I’m not to blame for everything. Some things—sure. I’m a fucking menace. I know why you gave me the name. It was…it was affectionate, once. Now it’s just another accusation. And I don’t want it anymore.” She swallowed hard, finally starting to waver under every pair of eyes on her. “It’s not my fault,” she finished very quietly.

“Sethi…” Nansa whispered, hand hesitating toward her again.

“Are you done?”

Everyone looked to Keeper, stunned at the callousness in her voice. “Keeper?” Sethi breathed, eyes wide with shock now rather than fear.

“I asked if you were done,” Keeper repeated, folding her arms. “If you’re ready to stop moaning, then it’s time for you to go out there and head them off. They _cannot_ find the camp.”

“Keeper, she’s _hurt!_ ” Nansa argued as Sethi swayed on the spot.

“Keeper,” Aiyan began, voice shaking, “are we not even going to help her against a pack of templars who want to kill her? She’s our clanmate, and you’re telling her to go die?”

Keeper ignored both of them and closed in on Sethi. “What possessed you to lead them to us, _Harel’len?_ ”

“Don’t call me that!” Sethi shrieked, fists clenched and body shaking and bleeding.

“Fine, then,” Keeper spat. “ _Fen’harel’len._ ” _Dread Wolf’s child._

Just three seconds of stricken silence followed the accusation, but it seemed like a full eternity before Aiyan said finally, “Take that back, Keeper.”

Even before Aiyan had finished speaking, Sethi’s tension snapped, and she turned and ran. A step before entering the forest, she looked back and screamed, “ _Fine!_ I’ll go fix it! Don’t be surprised when I don’t come back!”

“Sethi!” Nansa shouted as she disappeared back into the trees.

Aiyan looked past Keeper—to Marevas. The First’s eyes flicked toward the woods, and Aiyan sprinted after Sethi.

Nansa started following them, but Keeper caught his wrist. “Let those fools go,” she ordered. “You help the hunters create a perimeter. These templars will _not_ find our camp.”

“Templars this far from any settlement?” Emmalgar whispered to Marevas as Nansa reluctantly followed Keeper’s orders. “They’re mad.”

“The humans’ war changed a lot, I think,” Marevas answered, her eyes on Keeper’s back as she strode away to organize the clan to defend. As soon as Keeper was out of earshot, Marevas turned to Emmalgar and Lathbora. “I need your help. We need to get Keeper’s aravel ready for a patient. And then you two need to distract Keeper—I’m going to join Aiyan, and we’re going to save Sethi.” She looked out to the woods, her face harder than either of them had seen it since they were very young. “I’ve kept myself out of this one for far too long.”

—

“ _Lethallan!_ ”

Sethi whipped around, already casting, and Aiyan deflected the spell only with difficulty. “Are you here to take me back?” she demanded, forcing her eyes to focus on him.

“You’re hurt, _lethallan,_ ” Aiyan said gently. “You need a healer.”

“I’m not going back to her.” Sethi fought to keep a sob out of her voice. “I’m gonna kill those templars or die trying, but either way, I’m not going back.”

“You’re not going to last long against them,” Aiyan said, letting a hard note into his voice. “You’ve gotta let Marevas see you.” He ventured toward her, extending his hand. “Come on, Sethi. Don’t leave.”

“What choice do I have?” Sethi’s voice truly shook now. “You heard her. ‘ _Fen’harel’len._ ’ Dread Wolf’s pup. I’ll never be anything but. Why stay if that’s all I am to her?”

“Sethi—”

“I killed someone, Aiyan,” she blurted. “My magic appearing _killed_ someone from my old clan. I gave him a shock that stopped his fucking heart! They couldn’t get rid of me fast enough, but you know what they called me before I left?”

The pieces fell terribly into place. “ _Fen’harel’len,_ ” Aiyan whispered.

Sethi nodded once, her mouth a bitter twist.

“Keeper knew?”

Another nod. Sethi’s lips were shut tight, half in anger, half to keep herself from retching.

“ _Fenedhis._ ”

One last nod, fiercer than the others, and Sethi collapsed. Aiyan was barely quick enough to catch her before she hit the ground, and he lowered her carefully into his lap. “Sethi. Sethi!”

She didn’t respond beyond a grimace, and Aiyan gathered her close, casting a quick spell to keep both of them warm. He thought briefly of Nansa carrying an unconscious Lathbora back to camp and suddenly wished Nansa were there with them, if only for the comfort he brought both of them. But he pushed the thought from his mind and tucked Sethi’s head into the crook of his neck. “ _Ar lath ma, lethallan,_ ” he whispered. “Please don’t forget that.”

Night was thick around them as Aiyan prepared himself for his vigil. He rocked Sethi gently, like he had when they were children. And, like he had when they were children and there was no one but Sethi to hear, Aiyan sang.

“ _Elgara vallas, da’len, melava somniar. Mala taren aravas, ara ma’desen melar._ _Iras ma ghilas, da’len, are ma’nedan ashir? Dirthara lothlenan’as bal emma mala dir._ _Tel’enfenim, da’len, irassal ma ghilas. Ma garas mir renan—ara ma’athlan vhenas._ ” He tucked his face into her hair and sang the last line of the lullaby even softer. “ _Ara ma’athlan vhenas…_ ”

—

“Aiyan? Aiyan, wake up.”

His head snapped up. “Marevas?”

“Thank the Creators.” Marevas was crouched in front of Aiyan and Sethi, giving them a cursory look to assess their injuries. Gently, she took Sethi from Aiyan’s lap, laying her on the ground and allowing Aiyan to stand, gripping his staff. Marevas put her hands on Sethi’s ribs first, already asking Aiyan, “Are you hurt?”

“Not hurt. Just tired,” Aiyan reported. “Don’t worry about me. What are you doing here? Won’t Keeper be angry with you too now?”

Marevas spared Aiyan a quick, grim smile. “Don’t worry about me,” she echoed. She worked in silence for several minutes, bathing them all in pale golden light. Aiyan’s ears stayed pricked the entire time, listening for any disturbance that might be a harbinger of the hunting templars.

“We need to go,” Aiyan said finally. “We’ve stayed too long already.”

“Not…going…back.” Sethi’s voice was weak, and her eyes opened only a sliver, but still both Marevas and Aiyan felt themselves relax.

“Hey,” Marevas whispered, her hand going to cradle Sethi’s face. “Stay with me, okay, Sethi? I can’t keep healing you out here in the dirt,” she said with an attempt at humor, offset by the obvious relief in her voice. “We have to go back. Come on, _lethallan_ …let’s get you home.”

—

“This is her _home._ ”

“Then she should be protecting it! Go out and head off the templars, as is her duty.”

“She is _hurt,_ Keeper,” Aiyan said, his voice steely. “She’s not heading _anything_ off anytime soon. Let the hunters do their duty and protect us.”

“Then you do your duty as well,” Keeper ordered. “I will heal Sethi, so long as you obey me and find those templars, _Second._ ” Keeper folded her arms. “They cannot be allowed to find the camp.”

Aiyan took two more seconds to glare at her before shifting his grip on his staff and whirling to leave without another word. Keeper turned with a heavy sigh, motioning to Marevas. “Bring her to my aravel.”

“Here,” Nansa said softly, taking Sethi’s arm and wrapping it around his shoulders before scooping her up in his arms. Marevas slipped out from under her other arm with a word of thanks and took a moment to contemplate how Sethi, tall and lanky Sethi, looked so small curled up in Nansa’s arms. With a shake of her head to dispel the thought, Marevas hurried to catch up to Keeper. She stayed silent for several seconds, choosing her words meticulously before finally saying, “Aiyan didn’t have the words to say it, but I know what he meant—we’re a part of this world. And we can’t stay isolated to pretend otherwise forever.”

“Aiyan is impetuous,” Keeper dismissed. “He has always been impatient and too eager. Too curious. I fear someday it will get him killed. I’ve done my best to keep him safe, but he is an adult now. I don’t know how much longer my protection will matter to him.”

Marevas stopped walking, her eyes on Keeper’s back as she entered her aravel, motioning to Nansa to bring Sethi. Nansa glanced back at Marevas for only a moment before following her. _Was I really that blind?_ Marevas wondered. _Clutching to her, believing she’d protect me, protect us? And all this time, she was just as afraid as I was._

“Marevas? Is Sethi…is she going to be all right?”

She sighed, letting the tension go from her shoulders for a moment. “I don’t know, Lath. I hope so. I really hope so.” She looked at Lathbora with a momentary tired smile before turning to face her again. “I’m sorry, but I need to ask another favor of you, _lethallan._ ”

—

Aiyan whipped around when something shifted behind him, extinguishing his mage-light and raising his staff with a force spell building inside him already.

“ _Lethallin_.”

Aiyan relaxed, letting go of the spell and reigniting his mage-light. “Em, what are you doing here? And you dragged your sister along too?”

“We came to help.” Nansa’s face appeared out of the gloom too. “Marevas sent us.”

“How’s…” Aiyan hesitated even to just say her name.

“She’s going to be all right,” Nansa soothed, putting his hand on Aiyan’s arm. “Keeper and Marevas are healing her.”

Aiyan nodded, swallowing once before looking to the others. “Lath, are you going to be all right?” _She’s barely been outside camp since those hunters, let alone been in a fight._

The youngest of them nodded resolutely, even though Aiyan’s mage-light reflected off the fear in her eyes. “I came to help. It’s my job.”

The shake in her voice and her obvious attempt to keep it from being there had Aiyan forcing a lump back down his throat before he nodded to the others. “Then let’s—”

The mage-light going out was their first sign of danger. It took Aiyan a moment to realize what it meant before Sethi’s words sounded in his head again: _My magic was just…beyond reach. I couldn’t touch it. The world slamming down around me…_

“Into the trees, now.” Aiyan kept his voice low and clipped. The four of them scattered, climbing near-silently into four separate trees and perching in the branches. Hoping the others could see him, Aiyan help up a hand, staying them, as voices drew nearer.

“…tracks lead this way. That elf was hurt. Look, Ritter, there’s blood following the tracks. She can’t have gotten much farther.”

“She was Dalish, Marshaul. You saw the tattoos on her face. They take care of their mages; what if we’ve angered an entire clan?”

“And Ursula is lying back at camp with her side covered in burns because of this knife-ear,” Marshaul answered, fury searing his voice. “We just let the bitch go, then, after she attacked us?”

Aiyan’s brows drew together. _Sethi attacked? Not the templars?_ He heard a soft whistle from nearby—a wordless question from Emmalgar. He shook his head. _Wait. I want to hear more._

“Marsh, I’m just saying…”

“She nearly killed my wife, Ritter; she’s not getting away with that!”

_His wife._

Aiyan was done listening. With a swift motion of his hand, he gave the order.

Marshaul and Ritter shouted in surprise as four elves dropped to the ground around them. The one with a sword held it to Marshaul’s throat, and the blond leader’s staff smacked Ritter’s hand, making him drop his blade. “You ever stop to think that maybe ‘this knife-ear’ might have been someone’s family as well?” the leader demanded in accented Common.

Marshaul tried to make a move, but one of the black-haired ones was suddenly behind him, with a knife pricking at the space between his helmet and gorget. “It’s been well over a year since I liked any human,” she said in a low voice, “let alone one who’s already tried to kill a clanmate of mine.”

“I was right,” Ritter forced out. “We _did_ anger an entire clan.”

_Not the entire clan,_ Aiyan didn’t say.

“Well?” Nansa asked sharply, his eyes flicking to Aiyan and back to Marshaul. “What do we do with them?”

_Kill them._ The words stuck in Aiyan’s throat. He thought of Ursula, waiting for her husband back at their camp, and of Sethi, lying in Keeper’s aravel with two healers working over her. _They’d kill us,_ he told himself, but the words sounded hollow.

A voice echoed out of the past: _We are as much a part of this world as any other._

Aiyan made his decision.

—

“You let them go?”

Aiyan stood his ground as Keeper advanced on him, eyes blazing. “Templars who hurt and would have killed your best friend, and you let them go?”

The words slipped out before Aiyan could control himself: “You didn’t seem too concerned about Sethi being hurt before now.”

“My concern is for this _clan,_ Aiyan.” Keeper stopped less than a foot from him. “And for those that threaten it—like those templars!”

“They would be perfectly happy to live and let live if we didn’t immediately see them as a threat!”

“They _are_ a threat, Aiyan! You just haven’t been around humans enough to understand that.”

Aiyan’s blood was truly boiling as he snarled, “And whose fault is that?”

The sharp noise of Keeper’s hand striking Aiyan across his face silenced any other sound in the camp.

“I have protected you,” Keeper hissed. “I have kept you safe; I have kept this _clan_ safe.”

“You’ve kept us _isolated,_ ” Aiyan shot back. “You’ve kept us _scared._ Why do you think Lathbora got hurt? Why do you think Sethi got in a fight with those templars?”

“She was attacked!”

“You know Sethi! Do you think she really just turned tail and ran as soon as she saw a glint of templar armor? Do you think they just gave chase?” Aiyan demanded. “No, Keeper, she _fought._ She fought like you taught her to, like you taught _me_ to. You taught us to protect the clan, so what do you think she was trying to do?” He took a deep, steadying breath and met Keeper’s eyes squarely. “No, I didn’t give the order to kill those templars. We can’t kill people just to protect our own isolation. We knew this day would come, and we can’t just go on pretending it didn’t. We have to join the world, or die clinging to the belief that we are above it.”

Keeper backed up two steps, and for a moment, Aiyan clung to the hope that perhaps he’d made her _see…_

And then she spoke. “If you want so badly to join the world, then do so.” She raised her arm and pointed a dire, accusing finger at Aiyan.

“I banish you from Clan Lavellan.”

Aiyan’s stomach dropped, and he felt his breathing stop for a second. Keeper continued to speak, raising her voice over gasps and scandalized shouts of _Keeper!_ “You are no longer one of us and shall be treated as such. You are no longer Aiyan of Clan Lavellan.” She dropped her arm and turned away from him, calling over her shoulder, her voice quieter again, “You have until dawn to get out of this camp.”

Marevas’s voice was clearest above the others, louder than Aiyan had ever heard it before. “Keeper! What are you _saying_ —”

But even she stopped talking when Aiyan held up a hand to stay her. The camp quieted almost instantly, and Keeper stopped, looking back over her shoulder with a threat in her eyes that said _don’t you dare beg._

For three seconds, the entire clan’s tension balanced on a taut wire. Aiyan finally opened his mouth and spoke two words with a quiet finality.

“ _Ma nuvenin._ ”


	5. Knife-ear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a banished son learns he was never meant to be alone

“Aiyan?”

A hand covered his on top of his full rucksack, and Aiyan finally looked up to see Marevas crouched in front of him again, black eyes sad. “Yes, _leth—_ ” Aiyan cut himself off, remembering Keeper’s words bitterly: _You are no longer one of us._ “Yes?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Marevas said. “You’re still my _lethallin._ ” Her hand moved to Aiyan’s face. “That hasn’t changed and never will. I can’t just forget eighteen years of friendship. Of being family.”

“Maybe this is for the best,” Aiyan said softly, dropping his gaze again. “Sethi’s next-oldest. She’ll be Second now, right? It’ll be good for her. She’s even more protective of the others than I am, and maybe it’ll teach her some responsibility.”

Marevas let out a breath that could have been a laugh in a different situation. “Maybe.”

“Will you tell her…tell her I’m sorry. And make sure she doesn’t blame herself for…for this. This was my fault. Never hers. And Nansa…” He trailed off, remembering his last words to his lover before Sethi stumbled upon them. “Tell him I said to be happy. And Em and Lath—”

“Shut up, Aiyan,” Marevas stopped him. “I don’t have to tell them. They already know what you’ll say.” She let out a long, tired sigh, looking away from Aiyan. “I know now that you’re right. We can’t pretend we aren’t part of the world— _this_ world, not the Arlathan of a thousand years ago. Lath, Sethi, the humans’ war… They all proved that. The world is changing faster than ever. I think Keeper knows it too, deep down. I’ll do my best to get her to see that while you’re gone.”

“While I’m gone?” Aiyan repeated, standing and swinging the rucksack onto his back. “You talk like I’ll only be gone for a month. Banishment’s rather a lifelong thing,” he said with his voice dripping irony.

Marevas stood too, still taller than Aiyan, putting her hands on his shoulders and trying to see the six-year-old she’d tried so hard to dislike. But the children in them were gone, and only two adults were left, thirty-four and twenty-four and both too old for their years. “No,” she said softly. “We’ll see each other again, _lethallin._ I believe that. We’re family; nothing will keep us apart forever.”

Aiyan let out a soft noise as he and Marevas embraced. “Take care of the others,” Aiyan whispered as his arms tightened.

“You know I will,” Marevas answered surely. After several more seconds, she finally let go of Aiyan, kissing her _lethallin_ ’s brow one last time. “ _Dareth shiral,_ Aiyan. Don’t look back.”

—

—

“Look behind you next time, knife-ear,” the dwarf snarled as he and his partner advanced on Aiyan, trying to back him against the wall. “If there is a next time when we’re done with you.”

Aiyan’s sudden force spell threw both of them backward against the other wall of the alley. “Look in front of you next time, _durgen’len,_ ” he retorted.

“You little—”

“Brekk! Hurnon!”

The two dwarves turned to the mouth of the alley to see another of their race—a woman. “Leave him,” she snapped. “You think he has money? Look at him; he’s one of the wanderers. You’re even thicker than I thought, both of you.” She jerked her head, beckoning them behind her. “Leave the elf. Report back to Arda,” she ordered.

Brekk and Hurnon obeyed her, muttering and casting baleful glances her way and Aiyan’s. The woman watched them go before stepping into the alley. “Not going to hurt you,” she assured, holding her hands up and out, away from the huge sword sheathed on her back. “Brekk and Hurnon are thugs. Thugs stupid enough to try and mug a mage. I swear, Arda’s punishing me by putting them under my command.”

She broke off, taking in Aiyan’s staff, the tattoos on his face, the guarded expression in his eyes. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you,” she said with an attempt at gentleness. “Just…you should probably get out of Markham. There’s a lot of templars around, and, well, you’re pretty distinctive-looking. Brekk and Hurnon are probably going to report to Arda that you’re a mage, and she’s always looking to get in the good graces of people who can get her into the lyrium trade—which templars can.

“I don’t mean to scare you. Promise. But Markham’s _really_ not a good place for a lone mage right now. I’d—well, I’d avoid cities if I were you. Mage-templar war’s only heating up, and I don’t want you caught up in that.”

She paused a few seconds, quirking an eyebrow— _a lot like Marevas_ —before prompting, “I know you can talk; I heard you earlier.”

“Oh, I—thank you,” Aiyan stammered, suddenly very aware of his voice. “Messere,” he added hastily, trying to copy the address he’d heard the humans use. It felt strange on his tongue, and the dwarf waved a hand dismissively.

“No need to call me that. Won’t ask your name, so I won’t be lying when I tell Arda I don’t know who you are.” She nodded once at him, moving aside to allow him out of the alley. “Speed on your travels…friend.”

—

Aiyan shivered as he tucked his knees up to his chest in front of the small campfire he’d lit in the woods outside Markham. He breathed a warming spell onto his fingers, pulled his cloak tighter around himself, and forced his mind away from thoughts of aravels made cozy by clanmates snuggled together.

His mind still buzzed, far too much for him to have any hope of much sleep that night, so instead of letting his mind wander to Sethi and Nansa, he thought of the dwarf. She’d saved his life, he conceded to himself. _Never even got her name._

He reviewed everything he knew of her, determinedly repeating, _dark red hair, blue eyes, sword, blunt but kind, dark red hair, blue eyes, sword, blunt but kind,_ to himself, over and over.

_You know who else has dark hair and blue eyes?_ a corner of his mind piped up. _Emma and Lath do. You know who else uses a sword? Nansa does. You know who else is blunt but kind? Marevas is._

_Shut up,_ Aiyan told that corner of his mind, cradling his head in his arms. _Shut up, shut up, shut_ up!

It didn’t shut up, but continued on its merry way, presenting him with his best memories of Nansa’s eyes and Marevas’s grin and Sethi’s laugh and Keeper’s voice and Emmalgar always chasing after Lathbora as the younger sister laughed uproariously—

“Stop it,” Aiyan said aloud. “I don’t want—I don’t _need_ —” He drew in a shuddering breath. “It’s been _weeks;_ why can’t I…” _Why can’t I let go?_

“I just want to go to sleep,” he whispered. Another memory, a little less painful, floated to the front, and softly, very softly, Aiyan began to sing to himself. “ _Elgara vallas, da’len, melava somniar…_ ”

He sang the lullaby to himself over and over, trying not to remember who had sung it to him— _Babae, Keeper_ —or who he’d sung it to— _Marevas, Nansa, Sethi, Em, Lath, so many other children_. Slowly, slowly, his eyelids began to droop, and Aiyan drifted into sleep with tears still on his face.

—

—

“Move it, knife-ear! The Savior’s coming through!”

Aiyan had barely registered the shout before a hand shoved him to the side hard enough to make him stumble and trip on his cloak. He landed hard on his shoulder as the human— _templar_ —who’d shoved him laughed.

“Oi, piss off!” a young woman snapped. “If I need someone shoved out of the way, I’ll damn well tell you, so don’t do it until I say so!” She elbowed the one who’d knocked Aiyan down out of the way and crouched, extending a hand. “Are you all right?”

It took Aiyan a moment to believe what was happening, but he cautiously put his hand in hers. “Yes…I’m fine. Thank you, messere.”

The woman smiled, and Aiyan noted that it didn’t quite reach her eyes— _brighter green than Sethi’s_ —as she said, “Sorry about that. Some people are a little overzealous at protecting me.” Under cover of pulling him to his feet, she added, low and fast, “Saw your staff. Get out of Ostwick, fast. Templars are occupying the city, and the Circle’s destroyed.”

“Be on your way, then!” the templar said rudely as the woman stepped back from Aiyan. “Go on, rabbit, get out of here!” There was something to the statement that was not an order, but a plea, and he glanced at the woman afterwards, as if for approval.

She nodded once at the man before looking back to Aiyan and mouthing, _Go._

Aiyan needed no further telling.

—

—

His legs finally gave out.

Aiyan fell against the tree, sliding down its trunk, his breath coming infrequently and pained. _I’m not cut out for this,_ he thought ruefully. _Not for hunting without magic._ He recalled the one old, lanky rabbit he’d managed to kill and skin with his knife a few days before, and his empty stomach made a halfhearted attempt at a grumble. _I grew up in a clan. I wasn’t born to be alone._ His vision darkened, and his last conscious thought was, _Looks like I’ll die alone, though._

—

“What are you doing?”

Aiyan tried to answer until another voice did it for him. “Giving him water.”

Something cool and liquid dripped onto his lips, and his tongue eagerly darted out to lap it up. “That’s it,” the second voice encouraged. “Come on, come back.”

“He’s just going to die,” the first voice said dismissively. “You’re doing him a disservice. Better to just give him a quick knife and be done with it.”

“Fuck off, Katoh; you don’t know that. Some food and water to get his strength back up, and he could make it to Kirkwall.”

“And you could get a tongue-lashing from Shokrakar.”

“My rations, my decision. Shokrakar won’t care.”

Both voices were women, but deeper than any human’s or elf’s voice. Aiyan cracked an eye open and nearly flinched backward into the tree at the sight of _horns._

“Hey,” the one crouching in front of him said softly, taking the waterskin away from his lips and reaching out her other hand to lay it gently on his shoulder. Her eyes were gentle, worried— _looked like Nansa’s._ “How do you feel?”

She didn’t quite match what he knew of demons or what he’d heard of Qunari—Keeper had warned them about the big, horned warriors, especially in the northern Free Marches, closer than most to the Qunari domain—and his mind was far too fuzzy to make sense of her, so he just reached weakly for the skin and croaked, “Water.”

“Yeah, I got you,” the woman said soothingly. She returned to dribbling water into his eager mouth, talking all the while. “See, Katoh? This one’s got a will to live.”

Katoh scoffed, still out of Aiyan’s line of sight. “You’ve always had a soft heart.”

“And you’ve always been a callous bitch.” The woman took the skin gently away, digging in the pack at her side before holding something out to Aiyan. “Can you eat some fruit?” She pressed it gently to his lips, and Aiyan carefully opened his mouth. The fruit was overripe, soft, but that only made it easier to chew, easier to swallow. By the time he was done with the first bite, the woman was already dribbling water onto his tongue again.

“We need to _go,_ ” Katoh’s voice interrupted. “Shokrakar’s not going to wait forever. Leave the food and water here for him.”

“Katoh—”

“Come _on,_ Saraan _._ ”

The woman in front of him sighed and tugged a few more pieces of fruit from her pack, setting them down in Aiyan’s lap and kissing his forehead before withdrawing. “Please live,” she whispered before she stood up and Aiyan’s eyes closed again.

Who had been the last one to kiss his brow like that? He couldn’t remember, but there was something tugging at him anyway. _Please live,_ the woman with the horns had said. The ones who had called him _lethallin_ —the woman who had sung to him and taught him—they would want him to live, right?

Maybe he would.

He would live, he decided before he let sleep take him fully. They—who _were_ they?—would want him to.

—

—

Aiyan’s eyes snapped open to sunlight streaming through a window, and someone gasped. “You’re awake! Thank the Creators! I was wondering when you’d finally open your eyes.”

Aiyan turned his head—an endeavor thanks to the pain suddenly shooting through his neck—to see an elf sitting at his bedside. She wore _vallaslin,_ although none he recognized—a southern design, maybe?—and she had kind eyes, the sort one wanted to trust.

“Where am I?” Aiyan managed. His throat seemed much less dry now.

“Kirkwall,” she answered promptly. “You’re in the alienage. You stumbled into the city—oh, almost a week back now. You were feverish. Some of the City Guard found some thugs, well, beating you up.” She said the words like they were strange on her tongue. “Aveline had you brought to me when she saw your _vallaslin._ I suppose she figured I’d know what to do with you.” The elf by his bed sighed. “Aveline’s a good friend, but there are times… Oh! I’m Merrill, by the way. Some of the elves call me Keeper.”

“I’m Aiyan,” he answered, pushing himself up to a sitting position with difficulty. “Thank you for taking care of me, Merrill, but I should g—”

“Oh, don’t go!” Merrill cajoled. “You’re still hurt some; you should stay here with us! You were starving when you got here. Where’s your clan? Surely they’re looking for you?”

A corner of Aiyan’s mouth twisted into a bitter half-smile. “No, I’m sure they’re not, and certainly not anywhere near a human city. Keeper was always insistent that we avoid humans. It got us in a lot of fights before she banished me. I…I think I’m starting to regret those fights now.”

“Oh,” Merrill said softly. “You really should stay here, then, if you’ve nowhere else to go.”

“I don’t belong here,” Aiyan replied. “I don’t really belong anywhere, I guess.”

“Stay here,” Merrill said again, putting her hand over Aiyan’s. “It’s not a clan, but…”

Aiyan managed to push himself out of the bed, rubbing his bare arms as he shivered, even in the autumn heat. “Did you get my pack?”

“No… I think the—the muggers took it.”

“Do you have a shirt, then?”

“Oh! I’m sure I do. Wait here.” Merrill dashed into another room for a few seconds before returning with a neatly folded cloth. “Here. I knew I’d have a use for this someday.” Merrill pressed a plain white shirt into his hands—human make, but the embroidery around the collar…

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry!” Merrill said hastily when she noticed the tears sliding down Aiyan’s face. “Did I do something?”

“No, just…the embroidery. It’s Dalish.” Aiyan looked up at her, the shirt clutched in his hands. “The crafters in our clan used to stitch patterns into clothes like this. I…I don’t know why I’m crying.” He wiped the back of his hand over his eyes with a forced laugh. “It’s just a little thing.”

But Merrill was smiling. “You can keep the shirt,” she assured him, closing his fingers around the fabric with her own hands. “And you can stay here. This is your home, for as long as you need it to be.”

—

Aiyan smoothed his hands over the front of the shirt, studying himself in the mirror he’d found in a back room. The shirt puffed out around him, obviously too big, but his fingers went to the collar again, to the blue stitching making twisting branches, and he decided that the shirt would do.

His thin braid brushed his fingers on the collar, and he absently caught it with his hand, twirling it between his fingers until slowly, slowly, he stopped and just gazed at it in the mirror.

So many pairs of fingers had made that braid for him in the past. First it had been Aiyan himself, trying something new and deciding he liked it when Keeper saw it and smiled. Then it had been Keeper, gentle and humming a morning song as they prepared for the day in their aravel. Then Marevas, when Keeper was busy, sometimes even making a more complicated braid with her skilled healer’s fingers as Aiyan repeated lessons back to her and Marevas laughed and told him to shut up, this was free time. Sethi, playing with his hair when she was restless, doing and undoing the braid over and over until her jitters were gone. And, finally, Nansa, slow and gentle and tender as he unraveled and redid the braid, both of them still naked and languid and loving.

Aiyan yanked the tie from the bottom of the braid and combed it out in seconds, tucking it in with the rest of his hair, tied at his nape, and turned away from the mirror.

—

—

Aiyan met the Captain of the Guard almost by accident.

The woman in City Guard armor appeared in the alienage two weeks after Aiyan woke up. Her uniform was different from that of the other guards he’d seen so far, but it was definitely still recognizable, with the Kirkwall crest on her breastplate. Aiyan gripped his staff a little tighter, and it was as if the woman could sense his tension. Her eyes darted to him and stayed as she started toward him. Aiyan felt the spell building in him, powerful enough to reach her even through her heavy plate. If she thought to attack—

“Aveline!” Merrill’s voice pealed.

The armored woman stumbled to the side, caught off-guard by the elf tackling her. “Merrill.” Her voice was exasperated, but warm nonetheless. “I see your patient is feeling better.” She nodded at Aiyan, and he stiffened.

“Oh! Have you met Aiyan?” Merrill turned and beckoned to him, and Aiyan started forward, still wary.

“Merrill,” he said, with a question embedded in her name.

“Aiyan, this is Aveline! She’s the one who brought you to me!” Merrill said, bright as ever.

Aiyan finally started to relax, nodding once to Aveline. “Thank you, then.”

“I’m glad to see you up and about,” Aveline answered. “Attitudes toward mages have been unpleasant in Kirkwall in the past few years, if not openly hostile. When my guards found you, I wasn’t sure you’d survive.” She smiled the smallest bit. “I see Merrill really came through this time.” There was a hint of amusement there, and Aiyan began to bristle until Aveline finished, “It’s good to see you’re feeling better.” She offered him her hand. “Merrill said your name was…Aiyan? I’m Aveline Vallen. Captain of the City Guard.”

“It’s…nice to meet you,” Aiyan managed, wondering what in the world he was supposed to do with Aveline’s hand.

“Oh. Right.” Aveline awkwardly withdrew her proffered hand. “You’re Dalish. Sorry.”

Merrill giggled, and Aveline shot her a disgruntled look before saying, “Do you plan to stay in Kirkwall?”

Aiyan glanced around the alienage, to children laughing shrilly, the older elves trading stories, and back to Aveline and Merrill waiting for his answer. “Yes,” he said firmly. “I think I do.”

—

—

“You have such pretty hair,” Merrill sighed, combing her fingers through golden strands as Aiyan sat in front of her. “Like sunshine.”

Aiyan was getting better at not being reminded by every little thing of the life he’d left behind, so he just quietly pushed the memory of Sethi’s first words to him aside and changed the subject. “I’ve been thinking about something Aveline said.”

“What’s that?” Merrill asked absently, still playing with his hair.

“About mages, and how Kirkwall…how Kirkwall feels about them.” He unconsciously rolled his shoulder, ghost pain from the now-healed wounds of the beating he didn’t remember rising to the surface as he recalled the captain’s words.

“Ah.” Merrill’s fingers stilled. “It’s…a very long story. And not one I’m very good at telling. I know someone who could tell it much better, but…” She sighed, her hands dropping from Aiyan’s hair. “He’s not here. I don’t much like telling this story.” She took a deep breath. “But it is a Keeper’s duty, and if you’re going to stay here…I suppose you ought to know.

“It started with the Hawkes,” Merrill began as Aiyan turned to face her. She held her hands neatly in her lap and gazed at them as she continued, “I suppose everything started with them, really. My clan was settled outside Kirkwall, and Marian and Garrett came to visit. They’d come from Ferelden, like we had, and they’d brought with them an amulet. Keeper sent me with them to a altar of Mythal on the mountain to… It doesn’t even matter. What matters is that I went with them after. To Kirkwall. My clan was…scared of me.”

“Scared of you?” Aiyan echoed.

“It’s… It would take too long to explain, but…I used to use blood magic.” Her voice got stronger as she said, “Not anymore.

“I left my clan and came to Kirkwall, to this alienage. The Hawkes helped me more than anyone in those days. They let me come adventuring with them; they all but adopted me.” She smiles at the memory. “We had…other companions as well. Aveline was one. But…one of us…” Her face fell again. “A mage…named Anders. He was…he was our _friend,_ and…” She shook her head. “I’m getting ahead of myself.

“The templar Knight-Commander, Meredith—she was mad. Power-hungry. Kept insisting that there were blood mages in the Circle that First Enchanter Orsino was keeping from her. They say that only the Grand Cleric of the Chantry was keeping her in check, but really it was Marian. Marian saw right through Meredith, right through every excuse Meredith tried to make about protecting the city. If anyone was protecting the city, it was the _Hawkes_ —” Merrill shook her head again, cutting herself off.

“Anyway, one day…it all came to a head. Meredith and Orsino were in another argument, but…this time Anders intervened. He said that ‘there is no compromise,’ and he…he destroyed the Chantry. Some kind of explosive. Meredith snapped and declared that every mage in Kirkwall should be put to death. The battle that followed nearly destroyed the city. Some would say it _did_ destroy it. Mages against templars, and everyone else caught in the middle… It was…it was…” She shook her head one last time. “I never want to see anything like it again. I will protect my people.”

Merrill sighed and finally looked back up at Aiyan. “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at telling that story. Just…that’s why Kirkwall isn’t too fond of mages. I…can’t say I blame them.” A flame had started burning in her eyes. “But they haven’t seen the good. Meredith didn’t allow them to. I believe that someday, magic is going to save this world instead of destroying it for once.”

—

—

“Aiyan!”

He leaned through the doorway to find Merrill ducking into the house. “What’s going on?” he asked, slipping into the Elvhen they used with each other.

“Aveline asked for you, too.” Merrill was still speaking Common, and Aiyan’s ears pricked, wary.

“What for?”

“There’s a Dalish clan settled outside the city, and they sent an envoy in with an escort made up of mages. The city is nervous, and Aveline wants us to meet the envoy, since we’re the only Dalish elves in the city.” She glanced over her shoulder, back out to the alienage. “They’re here. Clean up quick!” She ducked out the door, and Aiyan heard her call, “ _Andaran atish’an, lethallen!_ ”

Aiyan glanced into the mirror when he passed it, checking that his hair was neat, his face clean, his shirt not stained—

Strange. Hadn’t he once been dirty all the time? It had come with living in the wilds. His hair had never been neat then, his clothes sometimes filthy from excursions in the woods. His eyes landed on the collar of the shirt he wore. _It’s the one Merrill gave me when I first came to Kirkwall…nearly a year ago now,_ he realized. His fingers brushed the collar, the one he’d studied on sleepless nights, comparing it to his memories of Dalish embroidery and _vallaslin_ —the old tree of Mythal that Nansa and Keeper wore, the twisting thorns of Elgar’nan that Marevas and Emmalgar bore, even the curving sharp lines of Dirthamen that marked Sethi and Aiyan himself.

It had never truly matched any of them. The patterns were a pretty imitation, nothing more.

Aiyan looked back up to his own face—clean. His hair was neatly braided back. His staff leaned in a corner, untouched for nearly a week now. But his eyes landed on his own _vallaslin._ He was not a city elf. The marks on his face were proof that he never would be. Didn’t Merrill still consider herself Dalish?

It was enough.

Aiyan grabbed his staff from the corner. _Don’t look back,_ he reminded himself. With his head held high, he set out to meet the Dalish.

“Over here!” Merrill called from the tree at the center of the alienage. She frowned when Aiyan stopped dead, his eyes wide. “ _Lethallin?_ What’s wrong? Aiyan?”

The envoy at Merrill’s side froze, and one of her escort, the oldest, followed Merrill’s line of sight and breathed, “Mythal’s mercy.”

The envoy turned. “ _Lethallin,_ ” she breathed in unison with the girl next to her. Aiyan was already running toward them, and another of the escort pushed past Merrill to get to him.

They slammed into each other, hugging tightly already as Sethi repeated, “Aiyan, Aiyan,” over and over. “We found you,” she breathed over his shoulder. “I don’t believe it… We _found_ you, _lethallin._ ”

“Aiyan.”

Sethi let go of him, smiling uncontrollably, and Aiyan forced his feet to move toward the envoy. Their last words to each other were wounds in his chest, deeper with every step he took toward her, until she opened her arms. He was running to her, remembering everything else—her voice singing the lullaby he loved, her chuckling along as he laughed, her praise when he learned a new spell.

Her arms wrapped around him, and he was home. “ _Lethallin,_ ” Keeper Deshanna whispered. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear there's an explanation and you'll get it next chapter. aiyan does not just go back to his abuser with no qualms and no explanation.


	6. Prodigal Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> even if something broken is repaired, it's never quite the same again.

“Please leave us,” Keeper said quietly, her eyes still on Aiyan. “We have…much to talk about.”

Marevas nodded to the others, and, one by one, they trickled out of Merrill’s house, still throwing glances over their shoulders as if to make sure Aiyan was still there. Marevas herself went last, whispering, “I told you I’d do my best, didn’t I?” into Aiyan’s ear as she departed.

Aiyan managed a small smile through his own pounding heart before looking back at Keeper. As soon as he heard the door close, the questions tumbled from him, no longer content to be held back. “Keeper, what are you doing in a _city;_ what’s going _on_ —”

Keeper held up a hand, the gesture slower and a little gentler than a year and a half before. “Aiyan, I would like you to listen before you speak. I would…like a chance to explain myself. If I may.”

Aiyan nodded mutely, and Keeper dropped her hand and her gaze. “I will begin with this: I am _sorry._

“Almost as soon as I woke the next morning and realized you were not in the camp, I began to regret what I’d done. And still I did not let anyone go after you to bring you home. I still feared the templars, believed that even after you spared them, they would still be a danger to us. And at that point, bringing you back would only have restarted the cycle, I believe. I had not changed by the next sunrise; your return would only have caused us both pain at that point.

“My true regret only began after Sethi woke. Nansa was at her side, so…her first words were asking for you. And I…I had to tell her what I’d done. Creators, but I deserved every insult she screamed at me that day. I realized that then, gained some inkling of the mistakes I had made. No one stopped Sethi hurling insult after insult at me. You might have, even if I did not deserve it, but you were not there. Even Marevas only stood by and watched, and she was always the first to defend me in the past. I think that was what made me begin to realize just how wrong I’d been.

“In the days that followed, Sethi…Sethi drifted further and further away. She left camp more often. Stayed away longer. Were it not for Nansa and for Marevas and for Tilea’s daughters…I believe she would one day have just…left for good. And when I realized that, I was stunned by how…how _little_ I felt. I should have been horrified. I should have…” Keeper finally trailed off before finishing very quietly, her gaze fixed on her slender, wrinkled hands in front of her, “I should have done a great many things that I did not do.”

“Didn’t being Second teach her responsibility?” Aiyan asked, a stab at lightheartedness.

“I never made her my Second.” Keeper finally looked back up at Aiyan. “I thought about it, but…I couldn’t think of anyone but you as my Second. Always at my elbow, questioning everything. It wasn’t until far too late that I realized the true consequence of banishing you.

“By sending you away, by trying so zealously to keep our clan safe, I had very nearly destroyed us. And I am so, so sorry for that. I am sorry to you, to Sethi, to Nansa, to Marevas, to everyone I hurt because I was so determined not to see anything but the fact that I wanted to protect the clan.”

Aiyan swallowed hard. “You…really mean that?”

“ _Lethallin,_ I could tell you a thousand times and it would still never be enough: I am sorry. I don’t need you to forgive me; I don’t _want_ you to forgive me. What I did to you, to Sethi, to all of you, does not deserve any sort of forgiveness. But for all of it, everything I have done to you, everything I have done to the others, know that I am sorry. I am so, so sorry.” She stepped hesitantly forward, slowly taking Aiyan’s hands in her own, giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted. “You were right, Aiyan. We cannot remain in isolation anymore.” She let a small smile cross her face as she echoed his words and he let her clasp his hands: “Are we not part of this world?”

Aiyan saw the tears shimmering in her eyes at the same time he noticed his own sliding down his face. “ _Ir abelas,_ Aiyan,” Keeper whispered, squeezing his hands in hers. “Please…come home.”

The tugging at Aiyan’s heart that he’d shoved away and pushed down for a year came roaring back in full force, but he only managed one quiet word: “Yes.”

—

“Aiyan the city elf,” Sethi laughed as she finger-combed knots from his hair for the first time in a year. “If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

Aiyan still hadn’t stopped breathing deeply, trying to take in every scent of home that he’d missed. Wood smoke, herbs, cooking meat, grass…

“Aiyan.” Sethi tapped his shoulder. “You’re staring into space again. Where are you?”

Aiyan smiled over his shoulder at her. “I’m home, of course.”

Sethi grinned, a more honest smile than he’d seen on her since their childhood. “That you are,” she said with such a warmth that Aiyan felt his heart swell again as put his hand over one of hers and squeezed. The sound of Sethi so joyful was better than any familiar scent.

“So, is Keeper… Did she really…” Aiyan trailed off, unsure how to finish, and Sethi’s hands stilled in his hair for a moment.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Yeah, I think she’s changed. I think we all did after you left. I…I screamed at her after I woke up, called her every insult I knew and some I made up. Creators, I had _never_ been that angry before.”

“Not even with me?” Aiyan asked with another try at lightness.

“Of course not with you.” Sethi draped her arms over his shoulders. “Never with you, _lethallin._ You’re my best friend. And…you came after me. I never got the chance to thank you for that after I got my head back on my shoulders, did I? Creators, there’s so much…so much we never got to say to each other.” Her arms tightened around Aiyan, and there was a quiet, raw emotion in her voice as she said, “I _missed_ you, Aiyan.”

Aiyan turned where he sat to take her hands in his and say softly, “Keeper said that after I left…you almost did too. I’m sorry I left you like that.”

“You have to stop blaming yourself for everything.” Sethi leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Aiyan’s tattooed cheek. “You left because you refused to let Keeper blame me. You left because you didn’t give up on me. Even I can appreciate that. I…well…I’ve done my best to change since you left. I—”

She was cut off by a pair of hands covering her eyes. “Guess who,” the girl behind her singsonged.

Sethi grinned. “Must be Sylaise herself, with a voice that sweet. Or maybe…just Lath?”

Lathbora let out a laugh as she threw her arms around Sethi’s neck. “Just me!”

Sethi’s smile softened, and she put her hands over Lathbora’s. “You come for a lesson?”

“Nope!” The nineteen-year-old reached out and tapped Aiyan’s nose with a finger. “Em told me Aiyan was back!” Her smile was bright. “Welcome home, _lethallin._ ” Giggling, she pushed herself back to her feet and ran back to where her sister waited for her with a valiant attempt at a scowl that still couldn’t hide her smile.

“Lath doesn’t have her _vallaslin_ yet,” were the first words Aiyan managed as he watched the sisters start away together, Lathbora recounting some story for Emmalgar.

Sethi smiled, softer now, turning to watch them leave. “No, but she’s not as scared anymore,” she answered. “I’ve been helping teach her. She’s been getting so much better.” Sethi’s face fell as she looked at the ground between her and Aiyan again. “I’ve spent so many nights awake with her. Creators, but she was terrified to sleep at first. Marevas asked me to help—probably to give me something to do—and…and now Lath’s like my own little sister. She’ll get her _vallaslin_ soon, I’m sure of it.”

Aiyan stared at Sethi as she spoke. “You _have_ changed,” he said softly when she trailed off. “You never let yourself get really close to anyone besides me and Nansa before.”

Sethi offered a rueful smile, glancing up and back down. “ _Fen’harel’len_ was a lone wolf. They gave me the name, pushed me away, and I only made it worse. I thought maybe…maybe I can really be Sethi now.”

Aiyan reached out and put his hand over hers again. “To me, you were always Sethi,” he whispered. “Never anything else.”

Sethi’s smile was realer than the last one when she looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Aiyan kissed her forehead.

Sethi kept ahold of a chunk of his hair as he drew away. “May I?”

_I’m home._ “Of course.”

Sethi’s fingers were as quick and deft as ever as she redid the braid. “Keeper sent word to your _babae_ ’s clan a few months back. She thought you might have gone back to them.” She left the question unasked, but Aiyan answered it anyway.

“I wouldn’t have gone back to him. I told Babae at Arlathvhen that my place is with this clan. Even after Keeper banished me…that was still true.” He paused. “Elgar’nan…my half-sibling must be nearly ten years old by now.” He caught his braid as Sethi let it go, twirled it around his finger in a motion so familiar it almost made tears well up in his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered, and Sethi smiled.

Noise at the edge of camp drew their attention. “Oh. Hunting party’s back.” Sethi’s voice had gone oddly flat, her smile disappearing, and Aiyan gave her a questioning look until another voice pealed out over the camp.

“ _Aiyan!_ ”

His heart leapt to his throat when he saw who was sprinting across camp toward him, and he was barely on his feet in time for Nansa to throw his arms around Aiyan and hug him hard enough to pick him up off the ground. “Aiyan,” he said again in a whisper. Nansa’s arms were as strong as Aiyan remembered—perhaps stronger.

“There’s a stream nearby,” Nansa murmured as he set Aiyan down, taking his _vhenan_ ’s hands in his. “Will you come with me?”

Nansa’s hands were as callused as they had ever been, his grip as eager as when they were teenagers first trying out how to put their lips together. He frowned when he saw that Aiyan’s eyes were still on Sethi. “ _Vhenan?_ ”

Sethi’s face had returned to being stony, as indifferent as she could make it. Her eyes were as downcast and dark as they had been when she was a teenager leaving camp every night for a breath of air that didn’t smell of a clan that was suffocating her. She glanced at Aiyan only once, and there was resentment and anger and resignation all in that one glance.

“Take me to the stream,” Aiyan said.

—

Nansa’s eyes were as bright when he turned to Aiyan as they had been when he was seventeen, as bright and as blue and as beautiful. And still Aiyan’s first reaction when he felt Nansa’s mouth on his was to stiffen. It felt familiar, but only in the way that a silly song he sang as a child would be familiar. Too old. Not the same. Something that belonged to a different person. Something from another life.

“No.” The word tore from Aiyan’s mouth as he pulled himself away from Nansa.

“ _Vhenan?_ ” Nansa let him go, but his eyes immediately looked hurt, searching. “I was waiting for you to return, Aiyan. I waited so long…to hold you, to kiss you again… _Vhenan?_ ” His voice hitched.

“No,” Aiyan said again, trying and failing to force himself to look at Nansa, _just look at him, what is wrong with you, at least look at him when you say—_ “No, Nansa. I told you. If you’re in love with Sethi, bond with her. I think she’s in love with you too.”

“But you only said that because Keeper didn’t approve!” Nansa protested. “She’s changed her mind; she said she was wrong… Aiyan, _please!_ ” His voice was desperate, begging.

Aiyan finally managed to look at Nansa, but only for a second. Tears were already streaming down both their faces, and Aiyan thanked the gods that they blurred his vision. “I’ve…Nansa, I’ve changed. I’m older. I promise it isn’t your fault.” He forced himself to remember _why_ —Sethi’s face when she saw their reunion. “You love Sethi, and she loves you. Promise yourself to her. Make her happy. You and I… Nansa, I’m…I’m sorry. We’d never work out.”

He cringed, waited for the inevitable hurt words, the _I don’t understand,_ the _why._ Even a scream of _I hate you_ would have been better than what Nansa said after several long seconds.

“ _Ma nuvenin._ ”

Aiyan didn’t break down until the sound of Nansa’s footsteps on the grass—always so quiet, especially for a warrior—receded into the trees. Only then did the world turn dark around him, the noise of the stream rise to a roar in his head, and the soft Free Marches grass feel pointed and sharp under his feet.

Aiyan’s fists clenched at his sides, tight enough for his nails to bite his palms. _I loved him. I did. I still do, just…not like that. I don’t know if it was ever like that for me. We were teenagers; it was nearly nine years ago. Nansa… I’m sorry._ All the words he hadn’t been brave enough to say were tumbling through his mind, _Gods, I am so sorry. You deserve so much more than me. And Sethi deserves someone who loves her. Please be happy. Please…_

—

“Aiyan. _Lethallin?_ Wake up.”

He jerked awake from a half-remembered dream of a single painted tree to find Marevas crouched above him. “Please go away,” Aiyan whispered, curling up tighter on the grass.

“Nansa came back without you,” Marevas said softly, keeping her hand on Aiyan’s arm. “He only told us that he left you behind.”

_No, I left him behind,_ Aiyan corrected silently, but he did not speak, so Marevas went on.

“We were afraid you’d been hurt. Sethi was frantic. I’ve never seen her like that.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was sharper. “Aiyan. Look at me. _Aiyan._ ” Her hand tightened on Aiyan’s arm. “You can’t lie here and mope all night, Aiyan. Tell me what happened, at least.”

“I left him.” Aiyan spat the admittance out like the seed of a fruit, still not looking at Marevas. “I ended it.”

“Ah.” Marevas’s hand relaxed. “That explains why Nansa refused to talk to anyone.” She began to rub soothingly back and forth on Aiyan’s upper arm. “Are you going to be all right?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Aiyan said in a very small voice. “I don’t deserve to be all right after what I did.”

Marevas only sighed in response before she said, nudging Aiyan, “Come on, _lethallin._ Sit up.”

Aiyan allowed himself to be pulled into a sitting position, his head leaned on Marevas’s shoulder. “It’s all right,” Marevas murmured, rubbing the short, shaved hair underneath long blond waves, behind Aiyan’s ear, down to the nape of his neck, and back up. “You’re going to be all right, Aiyan.”

“I was hoping…I was hoping he’d moved on,” Aiyan whispered. “I was hoping this would never have to happen. I told him I’ve changed. I told him…I told him to be happy with Sethi. Gods, did you see her face?”

“Only every day,” Marevas answered.

“I never wanted it to happen this way,” Aiyan said. “I never wanted this to happen. I tried to make sure this would never have to happen…”

Marevas leaned her own head down to touch Aiyan’s, dropping a kiss on his hair. “You did your best, Aiyan.”

“But Nansa…”

“Nansa will recover,” Marevas assured him. “He still loves Sethi, and she still loves him. You were brave, Aiyan. You let him go.”

“I broke his heart.” Aiyan’s voice hitched on the last word.

“His heart will heal. Sethi will make sure of that, and I think you will too.” Marevas’s arm tucked around his shoulders and squeezed him ever so slightly. “You’ll heal too. I promise.” She stood, pulling Aiyan with her, and kissed Aiyan’s forehead, right on the middle of the dark red diamond of his _vallaslin._ “You think you’ve changed, but somewhere in you, there’s still that brave boy who I tried so, so hard to not like. And I’ll always love you for that, _lethallin._ ” She let go of Aiyan’s hand, beckoning him to follow. “Come on. Let’s go back home.”

—

“Aiyan? Are you awake?”

“Mmh.”

“Nansa told me what you said.”

Aiyan just closed his eyes, letting out a long breath into the dark aravel. It was a different one than the one in which he’d grown up; Keeper had decided that four fully grown elves were too many for one small aravel. Sethi and Aiyan had moved out to their own aravel bare weeks before Aiyan was banished.

“You know he loves you.”

“He loves you too.”

“You fought for the right to be with him, and as soon as Keeper accepted you back, you broke it off?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe you did that.” Sethi finally sat up. “I don’t understand. Why?”

“Because I don’t love him like that,” Aiyan answered, still not rolling over to see her.

“Nine years,” Sethi whispered. “He’s loved you for at least nine years. He _waited_ for you, Aiyan. He refused to promise himself to anyone. He fought with his parents about it so many times.”

“You wanted him to promise himself to you. You waited, too. You should have offered.”

“When did I say I didn’t offer? Keeper even encouraged it. But Nansa wanted _you._ ” Sethi’s voice was as bitter as it had ever been. “He was convinced you’d come back. You did. And then you broke his fucking heart.”

“I know, alright?” Aiyan finally sat up too. “I know. You don’t need to tell me what I did. You know me. Do you think I don’t—I don’t feel _horrible_ about what I did? I love him, Sethi. Just…not the way he loves me, or the way you love him.” His bare shoulders hunched. “I just…I’m still trying to convince myself I did the right thing.”

“Yeah,” Sethi whispered, and her tone lacked the bitterness of her words when she said, “I bet you are.”

—

“You’re sending me away? Again?”

Keeper held up her hands, placating, the gesture still gentler than a year and a half ago. “You still do not listen, _da’len._ ” She smiled at him, a silent reassurance that she meant no harm. “I’m still reminded of the impetuous and curious child who came to us so young.” She shook her head. “No. The hunters heard word in the village of a gathering. The human Chantry’s Divine is making a last attempt to end the war. She has called mage and templar leaders to a temple across the Waking Sea from here. There is enough time to send one of ours to attend.”

“Attend?” Aiyan raised an eyebrow. “The Chantry won’t want a Dalish _apostate_ at their gathering.” He used the humans’ words with an irony that was lost on neither of them.

“To spy, then,” Keeper amended with an acknowledging smile. “I think you are best for this, Aiyan. You are, after all, the one who pushed for us to join the world, and you lived among humans for a time.”

“In a manner of speaking.” Aiyan absently rolled his shoulder, disguising it as a shrug. “The alienage isn’t exactly the bustling center of town, and the humans…weren’t fond of us. They don’t like city elves any more than they like the Dalish.” He smiled, and Keeper paused to regard it. There was just that extra tinge of bitterness there that she hadn’t seen on him before.

“I’ll go.” The smile dropped. “You said I’m the one who wanted us to join this world. If the world changes, I want to be there to see it and bring the word back. I made that my duty, in a way.” He sat up straighter and looked directly into Keeper’s eyes. “When do I leave?”


	7. Traveler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the man leaves home once again.

Sethi smoothed down the traveling cloak hanging from Aiyan’s shoulders, focusing on the fabric as an alternative to seeing the faint, fond smile on his face. “You…” She bit down on her bottom lip before she glanced up at him. “Come back in one piece, Aiyan.”

“I will, _lethallan_ ,” Aiyan assured her. He held out his arms and murmured, “Come here.”

Sethi tugged him close, messing up the cloak she had so meticulously neatened, and hugged him tight. “You be careful,” she whispered, tucking his head into her shoulder one last time.

“You take care of the clan while I’m gone,” Aiyan instructed, his arms around her as tight as hers around him.

“I think I can do that,” Sethi said, the words choking slightly. “You taught me I could.”

A hand on Sethi’s shoulder drew her back, but Marevas’s arms quickly replaced Sethi’s around Aiyan. “Take care of yourself,” Marevas whispered. “We’ll take care of the clan.”

Lathbora kissed his cheek next. “Don’t get into trouble, you hear?” she ordered, her new _vallaslin_ crinkling as she frowned affectedly at him.

“Yes, Lath.” Aiyan couldn’t help the smile that rose to his face. _Maybe there’ll be even more of her old self back when I return._

Emmalgar patted her sister on the shoulder before stepping forward to put her hands on Aiyan’s shoulders. “Take care of yourself,” she instructed. “Come back in one piece.”

“Of course, Em.” Aiyan pulled her in for a quick kiss to her forehead, even though she scrunched up her face at it.

The last person who had come to see Aiyan off stepped forward. “ _Da’len._ ” Keeper held out her hands, and Aiyan grasped them tight as she kissed his forehead. “ _Mythal’enaste,_ Aiyan,” she whispered. “You carry our clan’s love with you. Stay safe, _lethallin._ ”

The Keeper stepped back with the rest of her clan, and Aiyan looked to each of them, biting the inside of his lip when he realized who was missing. “Sethi?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, trying as hard as he to hold back her tears.

“Tell him…tell him I’m sorry. And that the two of you are still my best friends. Please.”

Sethi managed a wan smile as she nodded. “Yeah. I will.”

Aiyan drew in a deep breath, casting one last look over his family. “Be—be safe while I’m gone.” He let them see him smile, even if it was a struggle to bring the expression to his face. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

He turned and started away into the dawn before any of them could see him cry.

—

_Smiles didn’t come easily anymore._

_Nansa went with his hunting partners silently and came back silently, never once glancing Aiyan’s way. The others accepted, even welcomed, Aiyan back. Even Nansa’s parents were kind to him, but it put a sick feeling in his stomach whenever Re’nehn or Isa’lath smiled at him, and Sethi’s words echoed:_ He fought with his parents about it so many times.

_Aiyan never smiled back at them._

—

“Captain? Someone here to see you. An elf.”

Aveline let out a long sigh as she leaned back in her chair, pushing the report away. “What is it, Merrill?”

“It’s not Merrill. Sorry to disappoint you, serah.” Her visitor stepped into her office with a smile, and Aveline blinked twice.

“I thought you went back to your clan,” she said as Aiyan grinned, leaning on his staff.

“I did,” he answered matter-of-factly. “And a few months later, we got word that the Divine had called a Conclave. I’m here to get a ship to Jader. I thought maybe you could help.”

“I can’t do much,” Aveline told him seriously. “I can put in a good word for you with a captain I trust, at most.”

“I lived here long enough to know that a good word from you goes a long way, Guard-Captain.” Aiyan smiled. “So?”

—

_Keeper made him her official Second again, reappointing him protector of the clan and mentor to the younger mages. He threw himself into his role, trying to devote himself entirely to it so that he would have no energy left at the end of each day. When he finally curled up in his aravel, he wanted to be exhausted enough to fall asleep right away. If he didn’t have the energy to lie awake, his mind wouldn’t stray to doubt and anxiety, right?_

_He was certain he didn’t quite succeed, because every time Keeper looked at him, her eyes lingered. She smiled, but even when he was in his element, correcting Emmalgar’s form with her staff—she was getting better every day; soon she’d be a deadly combination of staff and sword—or showing Lathbora how to make just her hands cold to soothe a swelling—Sethi was right; she was far less afraid again—there was a faint pity there, worse even than her anger the night she banished him._

_Aiyan rarely smiled back at her._

—

“I got nothing against mages, son. I got an apostate sister,” the old captain explained, “But it’s unlucky, taking elves to sea. You got your ships on land, we got ours on water. Not a good idea to mix, the two, it’s said.”

“I’ll do my share of the work,” Aiyan offered. “I won’t make any trouble. I won’t use magic if you don’t want me to. I just want passage to Jader,” he finished calmly.

The captain frowned, but glanced back at the letter with the Kirkwall Guard seal on it. “Guard-Captain seems to think you’re all right,” he relented. “You have money?”

“Enough to cover passage. You’ll take me?”

“I was looking for crew anyway. I’ll take you. Just don’t cause trouble.”

“Thank you,” Aiyan said, but the captain had already turned and started back up the gangplank. Aiyan turned and grasped the hands of the elf who had come with him to the docks. “I will see you again, _lethallan._ I’ll be back this way after the Conclave.”

Merrill smiled and brushed a lock of hair out of the younger elf’s face. “ _Mythal ma ghilana,_ Aiyan. We will meet again.” She stood on tiptoe, and Aiyan ducked his head so she could place a kiss on his brow. “Now go.”

“You coming, elf?” the captain called crossly.

Merrill’s touch slipped from his back as Aiyan turned and started up the gangplank. She raised her hand, half to wave, half in a blessing, but he didn’t look back.

—

_“For what it’s worth,” Marevas said one night as she handed Aiyan a wooden bowl of venison stew, “I think you did the right thing.”_

_When Aiyan didn’t answer right away or acknowledge Marevas at all, she sighed and sat pointedly next to him, elbowing Aiyan’s ribs._

_Aiyan yelped and flinched, his head whipping around. “What was that for—” He broke off when he saw Marevas with a frank expression that was struggling to not be her usual grin. “What?”_

_“I said, I think you did the right thing. And that you need to get more sleep.”_

_“I’m fine,” Aiyan insisted, taking the bowl of stew and refusing to look at Marevas again._

_“The solid several moments you just spent staring at nothing say otherwise. You stay up later than anyone—don’t think I haven’t noticed, Aiyan; I know you too well. You stay up later than anyone, and you’re one of the first ones up in the morning. When you are awake, you push yourself to your limits.”_

_“I’m fine,” Aiyan said again, but this time he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than Marevas._

_“You haven’t touched that stew, either,” Marevas noted. “And you barely ate at midday.”_

_“Are you keeping a constant watch on me or something?” Aiyan demanded._

_“No. I’m a healer. It’s my job to notice when you’re not taking care of yourself.” Marevas’s voice held no malice, not even jokingly. “And I’m your friend. It’s my job to know when you’re upset and trying to repress it.”_

_“Then what should I do?” Aiyan demanded. “Let the clan see me cry? Let them see me lose my temper again? It’s my job to be strong for them,” he said._

_“I don’t know,” Marevas admitted._

_Aiyan stared for a moment. That answer had been wholly unexpected, and Marevas managed only a tired half-smile as she went on, “This isn’t something I’ve ever faced, Aiyan, and something I probably never will. You have to do what_ you _think best.” She paused and glanced to Aiyan with an attempt at her grin. “But whatever you choose, you know I’m always here for you,_ lethallin. _”_

_Aiyan nearly smiled back._

—

Jader was as busy as any Free Marches city, with a bustling port and thriving trade going on right before Aiyan’s eyes. He hitched his rucksack higher on his shoulder and kept his gaze forward, ignoring every vendor who cried out to passersby. Not many called out to him. Kirkwall vendors had avoided his eyes too when they spotted his pointed ears and the tattoos on his face. As much as they marked him as belonging to the People, they signaled an outsider anywhere but with the Dalish.

For once, he was grateful for the merchants’ avoidance. He was already late.

—

_Lathbora pulled her third face in as many minutes as she stirred the pot. “Why am_ I _cooking? Didn’t I prove well enough that I can burn anything when I was little?”_

_“Must I repeat it?” Aiyan sighed, deft hands cutting the skin from an apple._

_“‘Your mother’s nerves are frayed enough already; you can’t play a harmless prank on her,’” Lathbora mimicked._

_“_ Lethallan, _” Aiyan said warningly, even as he glanced up with half a smirk at Lathbora’s most ridiculous pout. “Setting off an explosion, even a small one, outside your mother’s tent and waiting for her to come out to pelt her with snow is not necessarily harmless.”_

_Lathbora fell into a disgruntled silence, and Aiyan stopped his own task to reach out and place his hand over hers on the spoon. “It’s good to see you’re getting better, Lath,” he said softly. “Don’t doubt that.”_

_Lathbora managed half a smile, her eyes not meeting Aiyan’s, and Aiyan smiled back._

—

Aiyan pulled his hood back for a better look at the temple. The place, as he had expected, was pure Chantry—opulent architecture somewhat belied by its state of advanced disrepair. Aiyan shook his head as he continued on toward the ancient building. There would, of course, be some significance to the place the Divine had chosen. It would be enough to ensure that templars and mages alike who had been raised under the Chantry would respect the sacred place and not disrupt the Conclave.

At least, that would be what the Divine hoped. In truth, Aiyan wasn’t sure it would ever be enough. The hate had been there between the templars and mages for years before Kirkwall’s Circle fell. Four years of war would only have exacerbated it.

Still, Divine Justinia herself had called the meeting, and those at war had answered. It was up to Aiyan to witness what exactly they would do when face-to-face like this. The world he had so wanted to join hung in the balance.

—

_Aiyan paused on his way out, studying the camp. It was the picture of bustling life—the merchant’s huge double tent shining white in the setting sun, her laugh carrying across the clearing, families and friends commiserating around fires over their evening meal, the_ hahren _telling a story of his own youth to a group of enraptured children as his grown son snorted at some exaggerated detail._

_So little had changed while he was gone, even after Keeper made the decision to release her tight grip on isolation. Even Marevas teaching the younger mages hadn’t changed, nor had Sethi’s wandering attention._

_Her eyes landed on Aiyan, and the warmth of her smile stunned him for a moment as she nudged Lathbora next to her and indicated Aiyan with a flick of her head. Lath turned and waved to him, her smile as sweet as ever. The two girls giggled together at some secret joke, not even listening to Marevas anymore. The First paused her lesson to scold them, exasperated but unmistakably fond, and Sethi and Lath returned to attention, but not before Sethi tossed one more smile to Aiyan over her shoulder._

_And Aiyan smiled._

—

Wherever he was, it was dark, and his head _hurt_ , enough that he let out an involuntary groan as he sat up and put a hand to his forehead.

The voices nearby stopped for a second before returning—much louder. The clanking of metal, raised voices— _threat._ He forced his his eyes open and scrambled backward along the floor with a yelp of “ _Fenedhis!_ ” at the sight of two swords drawn on him— _danger._ His mind instinctively reached for magic, but was slammed back— _templar._

“The mage is the first to wake,” one of the sword-wielders snarled.

“What do you want from me?” Aiyan demanded, doing his best to keep his voice steady. Which one was the templar? Neither of them wore the armor.

“Hold, Seeker,” someone else said, forestalling the woman who had snarled from speaking again. Aiyan’s eyes left her and her sword for the first time to see a bald elf crouching just outside his cell—he was definitely in a dungeon of some sort—and studying him. “Who are you?” the other elf asked, with some genuine curiosity embedded in the question. He wasn’t just asking to interrogate, then.

“And what happened at the Conclave?” Another woman stepped forward, hooded and with an accent that Aiyan had only ever heard from the Orlesian nobles of Kirkwall when they deigned to leave Hightown.

Something of him suddenly felt lighter, freer. He didn’t question it, just seized the chance and summoned lightning to his hand. “Stay back,” he warned.

“Don’t try it,” the first woman growled, her sword and the blond man’s returning to pointing at Aiyan. “Well, Leliana, I think we may have found our culprit.”

_Culprit?_ Aiyan struggled to remember what he was supposed to have done. The last thing he remembered— _an explosion? The Temple blew up. I remember I fell… There were others with me?_

“Oi!”

The four people in the corridor turned as someone in a cell across the hall sat up. “You want the one who woke up first? That’d be me.” She was a dwarf, with dark hair of an indeterminate color in the dim dungeon. “Leave the elf alone and ask me your questions. I’ve got nothing to hide, and neither does he, I think.”

“You?” the woman blurted. “You’ve been asleep all this—”

“I was faking,” the dwarf said flatly. “For the last two or three times you’ve been down here, Seeker.”

Someone else sat up in the cell directly across from Aiyan’s. “I’m awake too,” she said, the single torch reflecting off golden eyes. “Looks like you were wrong twice over.”

“Seeker,” the bald elf said, standing back up. “I must see to the woman. The Breach spread not three minutes ago; the mark surely has as well.”

“Very well.” The woman—Seeker?—sheathed her sword and shut the door to Aiyan’s cell with a clang. The blond man warily followed suit, dogging the bald elf’s steps to the furthest cell. The other woman, the Orlesian, unlocked the cell and stepped aside to let them in.

“The mark has indeed spread again,” the elf’s voice called back.

“Wait.” The man had finally spoken, with a decidedly Fereldan accent. “I know this woman. Why do I…” He trailed off, his breath drawing in in sudden comprehension. “Trevelyan.”

Aiyan’s head jerked up. He _recognized_ that name. Why…?

“Trevelyan?” Seeker repeated.

“The Trevelyans are a noble family in Ostwick,” the Orlesian said, confused. “What would a Free Marcher noble be doing at the Conclave, unless… _oh._ ”

“What?” Seeker demanded.

“The Savior of Ostwick,” the man said wonderingly. “Lady Halla Trevelyan. So she survived.”

_Savior…Savior…Move it, knife-ear! The Savior’s coming through!_

Aiyan’s mouth dropped open. _She’s here? That’s her?_

The door to the dungeon swung open before anyone else could speak. “Commander!” someone shouted. “We need you and the Seeker! Demons are pouring out; we’re losing ground!”

The man and Seeker stormed back out of Trevelyan’s cell, back up the stairs and out of the dungeon. The Orlesian followed a little slower, glancing around at each of the three prisoners as if memorizing them.

The door slammed shut behind her, and the four prisoners were left with only each other and the bald elf for company.

“You can relax,” the elf called from Trevelyan’s cell. “I will not hurt any of you. Unlike the Seeker, I do not believe you are to blame for the Breach or the destruction of the Conclave. My name is Solas.”

“Is that woman’s name really Trevelyan?” the dwarf asked sharply.

“I do not know,” Solas answered, apparently unperturbed. “Why do you ask?”

“The templar commander was shouting at someone named Trevelyan,” Aiyan answered for her. “It’s one of the last things I remember. The person who answered was a man, though. He was refusing to join the templars as they lined up to attack the mages. He was arguing…said something about someone else panicking.” He laughed mirthlessly. “He was the only one who made sense in that chaos. He was the only one who saw that every effort would be ruined if a battle broke out.” His head was hurting again with the effort of remembering, and he put a hand over his eyes as he leaned back against the wall of his cell. “Creators,” he said, almost to himself. “I was only there to _spy._ ”

“Oh, bloody hell, not you too!”

Aiyan looked at the Qunari across from him in surprise. “What?”

“You were the other one who paid me to look the other way!” she blurted. “Oh, fuck, _seriously?_ ” she groaned, tipping her head back. “Of all the people to survive with, it was you two and a human noble!”

“She is not just any noble.” Solas sounded entirely amused by the whole thing. “Have you never heard of the Savior of Ostwick?”

“Obviously not,” the Qunari answered. “I haven’t been to a Marcher city proper in years; how should I know—and why should I care—what titles they give each other?”

“She defended her city from abominations and demons on the day the Ostwick Circle of Magi fell,” Solas explained, his voice softer. “She was only twenty-one, yet she fought like any seasoned warrior until the Knight-Commander of the city broke through to reach her. They named her their Savior as she recovered from her wounds. From what I gather, she was at the Conclave to plead for peace.” His tone became introspective, even softer than before, and Aiyan could picture him smoothing Trevelyan’s hair away from her face. “A pity, then, that she never got the chance.”

“What about the templar? The other Trevelyan?” the dwarf asked. “Where’s he?”

Solas’s silence was all the answer they needed.

“You know, if we’re going to be in prison together, we should probably know each other’s names,” the Qunari said to break the silence. “I’m Adaar. Saraan Adaar.”

“Panna of House Cadash.” The dwarf, Aiyan noted, put a heavy hint of irony and loathing into her pronunciation of her family name. “What about you, elf?”

“Aiyan,” he answered, dry-throated. He swallowed and tried again: “I’m Aiyan.

“Aiyan of Clan Lavellan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO, REST OF THE FEARSOME FOURSOME


	8. Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the inquisition, reborn

A crack like lightning accompanied the flash of green light, along with the woman’s first cry of pain. She tried to shield her eyes from the burst of light, but the shackles around her wrists only dragged the green pouring from her left hand closer to her face.

Aiyan watched silently, very aware of the guards surrounding where the woman sat in the middle of the dungeon. _Any moment now…_ Solas had hurried from the dungeon as soon as he realized the woman was about to wake, and the guards had dragged her out of her cell and surrounded her, as if the order to do so were already in place.

The door opened with a _boom_ , and Seeker and the Orlesian strode in. Trevelyan looked up, and Aiyan recognized the entirely intentional power structure already in place: the prisoner on the floor, with her jailers standing above her. “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now,” Seeker said, fury burning in her shaking voice. “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead, except for you.”

“What do you mean, everyone’s dead?” Trevelyan demanded, her tone trembling as well.

Seeker snatched up Trevelyan’s wrist, even as the green light flared again. “Explain _this,_ ” she snarled before throwing Trevelyan’s hand back down.

“I—I can’t,” Trevelyan stammered.

“What do you mean, you _can’t?_ ” Seeker snapped as her hand dropped to the hilt of her sword.

“I don’t know what that is, or how it got there!” It was more of a plea than a statement.

“You’re _lying!_ ”

Seeker lunged, but the Orlesian grabbed her arm. “We need her, Cassandra!”

“I can’t believe it,” Trevelyan whispered. “All those people…dead?”

“Do you remember what happened?” the Orlesian asked sharply. “How this began?”

“I remember…running,” Trevelyan began. “ _Things_ were chasing me, and then…a woman?”

“A woman?” The Orlesian’s folded arms were belied by the interest in her voice.

“She…reached out to me,” Trevelyan recalled. “But then…”

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana,” Seeker—Cassandra—told the Orlesian. “I will take her to the rift.”

The Orlesian glanced back as she left, and Cassandra crouched in front of Trevelyan, unlocking the shackles and quickly binding her wrists with cord instead. “I remember…I wasn’t the only one,” Trevelyan said as Cassandra worked. “There were…I think…three others?”

“That would probably be us, then.”

Trevelyan twisted to see the cells behind her, and Aiyan pushed himself to his feet so she could see him clearer. “Hey,” Saraan continued, not unkindly. “You must be Halla. They were talking about you while you were still asleep.”

“What happened?” Trevelyan asked blankly.

“It will be easier to show you,” Cassandra answered, signaling with her hand.

The guards unlocked the three cells, and Aiyan, Saraan, and Panna stepped out into the dim dungeon. “Come with me,” Cassandra ordered. “You need to see this.”

—

“That light’s not the sun,” Panna realized.

“No,” Cassandra answered gravely. “It is not.”

The sky was rent asunder, green light the same shade as that from Trevelyan’s hand turning the entire expanse chartreuse. Aiyan stared at it openly, horror roiling in his gut as he recognized the green of the Beyond.

“We call it the Breach,” Cassandra said. “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.” She turned back to the four prisoners. “It’s not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

“An explosion can do that?” Trevelyan asked.

“This one did,” Cassandra answered darkly. “Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

Trevelyan cried out again as the light on her hand cracked to life again. Inexplicably, her hands stretched out toward the Breach for a second before she drew it back to her chest and clenched it into a fist, gritting her teeth to hold back her shout.

The others gathered around her, almost protectively, as Cassandra crouched in front of her. “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads,” Cassandra explained. “And it is killing you.”

Aiyan noted Trevelyan’s small flinch before Cassandra went on, “It may be the key to stopping this. But there isn’t much time.”

“The key to what?” Trevelyan echoed.

“Closing the Breach,” Cassandra answered simply. “Whether that’s possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance, however. And yours.”

“You still think she did this to herself?” Panna demanded. “You think we did this to her?”

“Not intentionally,” Cassandra said evasively. “Something clearly went wrong.”

“And if we’re _not_ responsible?” Panna snarled.

“Someone is.” Saraan’s eyes were still fixed on the Breach.

“And you four are our only suspects,” Cassandra agreed. “You wish to prove your innocence, all of you? This is the only way.”

Trevelyan glanced around at the others for the first time before looking back to Cassandra. “I understand,” she said, her voice steadier than Aiyan had yet heard it.

“Then…”

“I’ll do what I can.” Trevelyan’s voice was getting stronger. “Whatever it takes.”

“And the rest of you?” Cassandra asked, looking up at the other three.

Saraan finally looked away from the Breach. “We’re with you.”

Cassandra tugged Trevelyan up and to her feet and forced her along by the arm, leading the four of them through the village. Suspicious glances came from every direction; whispers floated around them. “They have decided your guilt,” Cassandra informed her prisoners. “They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry.” Words were tumbling from her as she led the four of them out the gates of the village, and Aiyan noted the tremble of grief in her tone. “The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together, and now they are dead.” She took a deep breath to calm herself. “We lash out like the sky, but we must think beyond ourselves, as she did, until the Breach is sealed.”

Cassandra stopped as they approached a stone bridge across a ravine. Drawing a knife, she turned to the prisoners, cutting the rope around their wrists. “There will be a trial. I can promise no more,” she confessed. “Come. It is not far.”

“Where are you taking us?” Saraan demanded.

“That mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach,” Cassandra told them.

With glances around at each other, the four of them started off together for the first time.

—

—

“Hey. Elf. Aiyan, was it?”

He looked up from rubbing his temples to Panna, and she grinned. “Thought I recognized you. You’re pretty distinctive-looking, aren’t you?”

_Dark red hair, blue eyes, sword, blunt but kind._ Aiyan smiled back. “It’s the _vallaslin._ The tattoos. You ever get those two out from under your command?”

Panna shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, eventually.”

“I recognized Trevelyan, too,” Aiyan admitted. “I met her once in Ostwick. She told me to get out of the city, warned me about the templars.”

“Were you _trying_ to play chicken with templars?” Panna asked incredulously. “You’re either braver or way more stupid than I thought.”

“Back then? Probably the stupidity,” Aiyan laughed. He quieted again. “And…Saraan, right?”

The qunari raised an eyebrow. “You remember me?”

“Barely,” Aiyan admitted. “Not so much as you deserve. You saved my life.”

“So we’re all acquainted now?” Panna asked with no small amount of amusement. “Good.”

“How are you so nonchalant about all this?” Aiyan finally asked.

“Well, we’re not prisoners anymore,” Saraan answered. “That’s a plus, right?”

“And so long as that mark on Trevelyan’s hand can close those rifts, we should be all right,” Panna added.

“It’s the mark being able to close rifts that worries me,” Aiyan said softly. “We went through the Fade too—physically. I’ve never heard of anyone doing that. And if she came out with a mark that can close rifts…what do you suppose we might have gotten in there?”

—

_Daisy, you’re not gonna believe who’s here._

 

—excerpt from a letter from Varric Tethras to his Kirkwall associate, Merrill

—

The small elf bolted from the cottage, leaving the door to swing. Saraan caught it and held it open for Panna and Aiyan before following in herself. “Herald of Andraste,” she mused aloud, looking back after the servant before looking at Trevelyan. “Yeah, that’s what they’re calling you now, apparently. They think their Maker sent you to save the world from the hellhole it’s become.” She laughed once, a mirthless sound. “Yeah, divine intervention is so likely after all the shit that people have done late—”

“Is… Do they really think that?”

Trevelyan was clutching her left wrist and hugging it to her skinny chest, her left hand clenched into a fist around the glowing mark. Saraan’s face softened when she saw the vulnerability on Trevelyan’s. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s what they’re saying out there.”

“Three days is long enough to whip people into a frenzy,” Aiyan observed. Trevelyan looked to him in surprise, and he realized he’d never spoken in front of her before. “I’m Aiyan,” he told her with a smile. “From Clan Lavellan,” he continued, even as he realized that his clan name would have little meaning to a human noble. “How do you feel?”

She forced a laugh as her hands dropped to brace herself on the bed again. “Like shit? Is that an option?”

“Course it is,” Panna answered. “Anyone would, in your place, I think.” She proffered her hand. “Panna Cadash. Apparently, the four of us survived the Fade and Breach bullshit together.”

Trevelyan hesitantly put her hand in Panna’s, nearly enveloping the dwarf’s hand with her own, even slender as it is. “It’s Halla, right?” Panna asks. “We heard your name in that damned dungeon while we were all locked up. The Commander recognized you. Said you were the Savior of Ostwick or something.”

Trevelyan visibly relaxed a little. “You have quite the advantage over me, apparently. Who’s this Commander?”

“He’s called Cullen,” Saraan informed her. “Former templar. Don’t know exactly what he commands. It’s all pretty hush-hush, apparently.”

“Cullen,” Trevelyan repeated. “Is he…from Kirkwall?”

“He might be.” Panna shrugged. “I think I heard him mention Kirkwall once. I guess it sounded like he lived there at some point.”

Trevelyan laughed again, putting a hand to her face. “Cullen. Knight-Captain Cullen fucking Rutherford.”

“You know him?” Aiyan asked. He had only gotten glimpses of Cullen in Kirkwall, but Merrill’s memories of the man and the order he belonged to had not given him much hope that any meeting with the templar captain would go well.

“Not really, no,” Trevelyan admitted. “We met once, in our official capacities as acting Knight-Commander of Kirkwall and whatever the fuck Savior of Ostwick means.” Trevelyan put her hands on her hips. “How small is the damn world?”

“Too small for someone seven feet tall,” Saraan chuckled from where she was seated backward in a chair. “I’m Adaar. Saraan Adaar. Nice to meet you, Savior of Ostwick.”

“Oh, shut up,” Trevelyan sighed. “I hate that title; it’s bullshit. I didn’t save the fucking city on purpose. I saved my _brother_.” She froze for a second. “My brother.”

Aiyan’s ears pricked as he felt, more than saw, Trevelyan’s tension shoot up. “What’s wrong?”

Trevelyan bolted from the cottage, leaving the door to swing.

—

“Halla!”

Saraan caught her first, pulling her to a halt as Aiyan and Panna caught up. “What is _wrong?_ ”

Trevelyan was nearly incoherent, tears already running down her face. “My brother, where’s my brother?” she demanded, hands clutching at Saraan, looking up at the qunari with begging eyes. “Please, tell me!”

_What about the templar? The other Trevelyan? Where’s he?_

Aiyan put his hand gently on Trevelyan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. We were the only four survivors.”

“No! No, I didn’t save him for this!” Trevelyan shrieked, gripping her hair with her hands, nearly hyperventilating. “I _saved_ him! He can’t die; I _saved_ him!”

“Hey. Hey. Halla. _Hey!_ ” Saraan turned Trevelyan’s face up. “Look at me. _Look_ at me, Halla. Listen to me. You need to calm down, okay? It’s gonna be okay. You’re fine.”

“No! No, it’s not okay!” Trevelyan yanked herself from Saraan’s hold, her gaze flicking around like a scared animal. “I’m—I’m—I can’t breathe. I can’t—”

Aiyan’s reaction was almost reflexive, a hand on her shoulder and a small spell pushed through. He’d used it enough times on scared children, sometimes even a panicked young hunter.

Halla suddenly drew in a deep breath. “That’s it,” Aiyan said softly. “Just breathe, all right?”

She looked at him in wonderment. “What did you…what did you do?”

“Nudged part of your mind, told it to calm down,” Aiyan answered. “That’s the simple explanation. The long explanation is I removed the perception of a threat. You’re all right.” His hand moved to her back, rubbing a bit as he smiled reassuringly at her and Saraan gave him a minute frown. “You were just panicking.”

More tears spilled out as Trevelyan tried to smile. “Yeah…but…”

“I know.”

She slumped into him, her arms going around his neck as she cried. It was a little awkward to hug her, tall as she was, but he tucked his arms around her all the same. “I’m sorry,” he repeated quietly.

“What kind of exchange is this?” Halla managed through her tears. “I don’t want this mark; I don’t want any fucking titles—I want my brother!”

“Not an option,” Saraan said quietly, putting a hand on Halla’s shoulder again. “Sorry.”

“We should get to the Chantry,” Panna said after a moment. “Find Cassandra, ask what she wants us to do now you’ve woken up.”

Halla straightened, forcing herself to stop crying as she nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s go.”

Tentatively, they all stepped forward together.


	9. Mage

The flames flickered the same way as the fires in his home camp.

“ _Elgara vallas, da’len, melava somniar…_ ”

The murmuring, the sharing of a meal, some others continuing about their duties—it was all the same.

“ _Mala taren aravas, ara ma’desen melar…_ ”

The Inquisition camp felt like home.

Aiyan glanced up when he realized there were eyes on him, and he flushed. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, sitting up straight. “I didn’t realize I was singing that aloud.”

“It’s beautiful,” Halla said honestly. “Is that Elvish?”

“Yes.” Aiyan ducked his head, his cheeks still warm. _Fenedhis, I can’t believe I just started singing in front of them._ “It’s…it’s an old song, one I learned in the clan I was born in. The Keeper of the clan I was brought to helped me remember it. It’s…a lullaby.”

“The clan you were brought to?” Saraan caught. “You weren’t born there?”

“No.” Aiyan looked away again, wondering how best to simplify his answer. “I lived with a different clan when I was very young. That was the clan I was born to. When my magic appeared, I was given to Clan Lavellan. They were well-known for their ability to train mages. It’s rare for clans to have more than two mages, but ours had six.” He glanced around at the others. _So long as we’re traveling together or helping heal the sky together or whatever it is we’re doing…_ “I remember Keeper sitting us all in a circle and giving us our lessons all together. We all took to different kinds of magic. I liked combat magic; Marevas was always the best of us at healing; Emmalgar and Lathbora always had an affinity for growing things.”

“You liked combat magic?” Panna laughed. “Should have guessed after you handed Brekk and Hurnon their own asses in Markham.”

“I was…a fierce little thing when I was younger,” Aiyan chuckled. “Keeper says I mellowed out some—” _during my banishment._ “—as I got older.”

“You don’t seem to have mellowed out on the battlefield, and the Inquisition’s lucky for that,” Saraan remarked before taking a gulp from her waterskin.

“Sethi never quite mellowed either,” Aiyan recalled. “Sharp-tongued and deft, and would pick your pocket while you marveled at the sparkles she made with her magic. Keeper would call her _Harel’len_ —trickster child. Menace…” He trailed off for a moment, remembering a defeated mumble of _I’m a fucking menace_ before continuing resolutely, “Keeper loved—loves—all of us, especially her mage children.” He managed a smile at the fire again. “She taught us everything.”

“I am sure your Keeper did not teach you _everything._ ” Solas’s voice was tart and disapproving. “There is too much they have lost. Magic no elf has known for centuries.”

“Not like he asked you,” Panna snapped, even as Aiyan lifted his head.

“Keeper did her best by us,” Aiyan said, fighting to keep his voice level. “No one could have done better. Not even any of those ancient elves you revere.” Something occurred to him, and he smirked. “Your name fits you so well, Solas.”

The older elf’s mouth twisted with distaste, but he turned back to his own work, ignoring the comment.

“What does Solas mean?” Halla asked when Aiyan had relaxed.

Aiyan smiled, sharing the joke: “Pride.”

—

“That spell you used on me when I was panicking,” Halla said abruptly.

Aiyan glanced at her beside him, pausing his work getting dried blood out from under his fingernails as they made their way through the Hinterlands. “I can’t use it very often, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh. I…Sorry. It must be a difficult spell. I won’t ask it of you, then.”

“It’s not because it’s a hard spell by any means,” Aiyan said. “It’s just…something like that can be…addictive. Along with removing the perception of a threat, it also gives…for lack of a better phrase, a shot of calm. Your body starts to crave it if I use that spell too much.”

“Could you just remove the threat? Not force the calm?”

“No, actually, I can’t. Magic is strange. It doesn’t let me just remove the threat. It has to give the calm, too. It’s almost like the magic wants to help as much as it can, even if it’s misguided.”

“So the magic is…alive, almost?”

“It certainly seems to have a will of its own.” Aiyan gave her a sidelong glance. “You’re not a mage, are you?”

“No, of course not,” Halla laughed.

“Then what has you so interested?”

Halla gave him a small smile. “The way you talk about magic, I guess. Like it’s…a gift.”

“What, it is _not_ a gift?”

“No, it’s just…the way humans—my people treat magic, it’s like it’s…like it’s a curse or an illness. Mages are locked away in a Circle, not allowed to leave or even see their families, only allowed to study what the templars don’t ban. The way you use magic…isn’t like any mage I’ve ever known.”

“Do you know any mages?”

“I…knew one. A girl. A healer.” Halla paused. “She could have been so much more…”

“Tell me,” Aiyan said softly, putting a hand on her arm as they walked.

“They killed her,” Halla told him quietly. “They killed my baby sister the day the Circle fell. She was still an apprentice. They accused her of blood magic and killed her. She’d never done anything wrong. And they killed our brother and sister to get to her, too. They killed two of their own templars just to get at one innocent mage. I’m—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tell that story. My anger gets the better of me every time.”

“Anger isn’t necessarily bad,” Aiyan told her. “Sometimes anger is what leads to change.”

“You’re speaking from experience.” It wasn’t a question.

Aiyan gave Halla a sidelong smile. “I am. Anger certainly changed my clan.”

“Your anger?” she prompted. “Or someone else’s?”

“Eventually, it was mine,” he relented. “I was just more stubborn, in the end. It…got me banished for a time. And it just…wasn’t the same when I went back.”

“So we’re both outcasts, then.” Halla’s smile was bitter.

“The Lady Trevelyan? Savior of Ostwick? _No_ ,” Aiyan said, teasing.

“Or Whore of Ostwick, depending on who you asked,” Halla muttered. “The nobles weren’t exactly fond of me, and I didn’t care enough to improve their image of me.”

“Then we are both outcasts,” Aiyan said quietly.

“We should stick together, then,” Halla said. “Maybe even…be friends?”

Aiyan held his smile back to a quiet curl of one side of his mouth. “Maybe even be friends.”

—

_It has come to our attention that a member of our clan is being held captive by your Inquisition. He went to the Conclave only to observe the peace talks between your mages and templars, and we find it highly unlikely that he intentionally violated your customs. If he has been charged with a crime, we would appreciate hearing of it. If not, it would ease our concerns to hear from him to know that he remains with the Inquisition of his own will._

_We await your reply._

_Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel of Clan Lavellan_

 

—an excerpt from a letter sent from the outskirts of Wycome to the village of Haven

—

Aiyan’s vision swam, the hand holding the letter trembling. He pressed the other hand to his mouth as Cullen asked, “Well?”

“Give him a moment,” Halla admonished softly, not taking her eyes off Aiyan. “He just got the first word from his family he’s had in weeks.”

Aiyan took a deep breath, pleased with the way it did not shudder, and looked up. “Options?”

“Your people must be approached carefully,” Josephine Montilyet answered promptly. “One of our elven scribes could deliver a message and share news of the Inquisition’s fair treatment.”

“Right on the first count,” Aiyan answered. “But I’m not sure they’d believe just a message.”

“My troops can deliver news of your safety and make it clear that the Inquisition should be taken seriously,” Cullen suggested.

“Absolutely not,” Aiyan vetoed. “They might take soldiers showing up as an act of aggression, and if I know my clan, they won’t take well to it.” _Sethi attacked just three templars, after all, and it wasn’t that long ago that they started letting up on their isolationism._ “Leliana?”

“The Dalish respect deeds, not words, do they not?” the Orlesian said. “Let my elven agents deliver something the clan needs as a show of good faith.”

“They don’t need for much,” Aiyan answered. “Maybe some supplies. Food. Cloth. And…something from me. They’ll need confirmation that it comes from me. Don’t send your agents yet, Spymaster. I’d…like to write to my clan.”

—

_Lethallen,_

_I will never be able to say everything I want to in a letter, so I’ll settle for this: I am alive. I am safe. And I have not forgotten you._

_May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent._

_Second_

 

—from a letter from Master Aiyan Lavellan of the Inquisition to Clan Lavellan outside Wycome

—

“We would be a distraction if we came to the Inquisition itself, our hunters—and others—arguing with the humans as you know we would so easily do. Nevertheless, if you need aid, send word, and we are with you. Dareth shiral. Keeper.”

Aiyan finished reading the letter aloud and pressed a kiss to the parchment before looking across the cabin at his audience of one. “That’s my news. What’s yours?”

Halla sighed and leaned her elbows on her knees, emphasizing her long, skinny proportions as she ran her hands through her hair. “Where to begin? The Chantry Mother we went to Val Royeaux to meet with tried to have me arrested for murdering the Divine, the Lord Seeker publicly denounced the Inquisition, and the rebel Grand Enchanter extended us a goddamn invitation to where they’re all holed up in Redcliffe.”

“And the two allies you brought back?”

“Vivienne and Sera? The First Enchanter and the Red Jenny. They’re both…characters. About as different as you can get, but each will be useful in her own way. I hope. What about the ones _you_ brought back? The Qunari?” she asked, as pointed as she could get.

“Saraan and Panna, not me,” Aiyan insisted. “And he seems to want to help.”

“The Qunari want to help,” Halla muttered, dropping her hands to hang in front of her legs where she slumped against the wall of the cabin. “I’m not sure how much I value that help, after how they tried to take over Kirkwall.”

“Panna’s vouching for him. I think it’s because of his mercenary band. Apparently, they’re very good at what they do.”

“What about the Grey Warden? Blackwall,” Halla recalled. “Does he know anything about the other Wardens disappearing?”

“Not so far as we can tell,” Aiyan answered. “He wants to help too, though, and if anything, he’s a good fighter. Saraan and Panna both took a liking to him and started bringing him along when they travel.”

“And how have these travels been going while I was in Orlais?” Halla said the empire’s name with a mild disgust, like it was a rotten fruit.

“If anything, the Hinterlands are mostly secure. If you want to go to Redcliffe to meet with the mages, your road should mainly be safe. And after your message came back after the confrontation in Val Royeaux, Leliana and Josephine started work. Apparently, if one wants to win over templars, allying with Orlesian nobility is the way to do it.”

Halla snorted an incredulous laugh. “Seriously?”

“According to them.” Aiyan smiled. “Saraan and Panna have agreed to go talk to the templars when we have enough allies. And the mages will speak with us about an alliance as well, right? That’s good—”

“I want you to come with me.”

Aiyan startled. “What?”

Halla’s green gaze was steady and honest. “I’m going to go to Redcliffe and talk with Grand Enchanter Fiona. I’ll need a few mages with me when I do, and…of anyone here, I trust you, Aiyan. Will you come with me when I go?”

Aiyan was nodding before he’d even fully considered. “You have me.”

—

—

The strange mage gazed curiously at where the rift had been. “Fascinating…” Turning to Halla, he asked, “How does that work, exactly?”

Halla, taken aback, glanced at the mark on her hand for a moment before looking back to the mage as he laughed. “You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom—rift closes.”

Stung, Halla demanded, “Who are you?”

“Ah. Getting ahead of myself again, I see.” He cut a fine bow. “Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”

“Another Tevinter,” Cassandra observed coldly. “Be cautious with this one.”

“Suspicious friends you have here,” Dorian said lightly. “Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Are you a magister?” Aiyan asked sharply.

“All right, “Dorian sighed. “Let’s say this once: I’m a mage from Tevinter, but not a member of the Magisterium. I know southerners use the terms interchangeably, but that only makes you sound like barbarians,” he finished with a smirk.

“We were expecting Felix to be here,” Halla interrupted.

“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Dorian replied nonchalantly. “He was to give you the note, then meet us here after ditching his father.”

“Alexius couldn’t jump to Felix’s side fast enough when he pretended to be faint,” Aiyan recalled. “Is something wrong with him?”

Dorian shrugged. “He’s had some lingering illness for months. Felix is an only child, and Alexius is being a mother hen, most likely.”

“You’re betraying your mentor because…?” Halla left the question hanging.

“Alexius _was_ my mentor,” Dorian corrected acidly. “Meaning he’s not any longer. Not for some time.” He lowered his voice. “Look, you know there’s danger. That much should be obvious, even without the note.” His tone regained its jaunty confidence as he continued, “Let’s start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.”

“He arranged it so he could arrive here just after the Divine died,” Aiyan realized.

“You catch on quick.” Dorian sounded pleased. “The rift the lady closed here—you saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down? Soon, there’ll be more like it, and they’ll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic that Alexius is using is wildly unstable. It’s unraveling the world.”

Halla crossed her arms, still suspicious. “I’d like more proof than ‘magical time control; go with it.’”

“I know what I’m talking about,” Dorian insisted. “I helped develop this magic. When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work. What I don’t understand is why he’s doing it. Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?”

“He didn’t do it for them.”

Dorian turned with the others to find Felix entering the Chantry through a side door. “Took you long enough.” He dropped his volume again. “Is he getting suspicious?”

“No, but I shouldn’t have played the illness card,” Felix sighed. “Thought he’d be fussing over me all day.” He turned to Halla and went straight to business. “My father’s joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves Venatori, and I can tell you one thing: whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you two and the other two survivors of the conclave.”

“Alexius is your father; why are you working against him?” Aiyan asked curiously.

“Maybe the same reason I don’t like my stepmother?” Halla suggested. “Trying to get him to be something he’s not and will never be?”

Only Aiyan noted the way Dorian flinched ever so slightly, and he put the information away for future use as Felix answered, “For the same reason Dorian works against him. I love my father, and I love my country. But this—cult, time magic—what he’s doing now is madness. For his own sake, you have to stop him.”

“It would also be nice if he didn’t rip a hole in time,” Dorian added, dripping sarcasm. “There’s already a hole in the sky.”

“Why would he rearrange time and indenture the mage rebellion just to get to us?” Halla demanded.

“They’re obsessed with you, but I don’t know why,” Felix admitted. “Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

“You can close the rifts,” Dorian suggested. “Maybe there’s a connection, or they see you as a threat.”

“If the Venatori are behind those rifts, or the Breach in the sky, they’re even worse than I thought,” Felix warned.

“All this for us?” Aiyan asked lightly. “And here we didn’t get Alexius anything.”

Dorian’s smile was quick. “Send him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those,” he answered. “You know you’re his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage. I can’t stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn’t know I’m here, and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you’re ready to deal with him, I want to be there.” He started walking backwards, away from the others. “I’ll be in touch.” He turned, but looked back to say, as if in afterthought, “Oh, and Felix, try not to get yourself killed.”

“There are worse things than dying, Dorian,” Felix responded cryptically as his friend departed.

—

“We don’t have the manpower to take the castle!” Cullen insisted. “Either we find another way in, or we give up this nonsense and just go and get the templars.”

“Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister,” Cassandra argued. “This cannot be allowed to stand.”

“The letter from Alexius asked for the survivors by name,” Josephine offered. “It’s an obvious trap.”

“Isn’t that kind of him?” Aiyan remarked sarcastically. “What does Alexius say about us?”

“He’s so complimentary that we are certain he wants to kill you,” Leliana answered shortly. “Lady Trevelyan especially; he expressed no small degree of interest in the Anchor.”

“Not this again,” Josephine muttered, withdrawing a step into the corner with her eyes on Cullen. Saraan and Panna mirrored her movement, sharing an exasperated glance.

“Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden!” Cullen snapped. “It has repelled thousands of assaults. If you go in there, my lady, you’ll die, and we’ll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won’t allow it.”

“And if we don’t even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep,” Leliana countered.

“Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught,” Josephine cut in. “An ‘Orlesian’ Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Our hands are tied.”

“The magister—“ Cassandra began desperately.

“Has outplayed us,” Cullen cut across her.

“The magister’s son Felix told us that Alexius is in a cult that’s obsessed with us,” Halla informed them. Her voice gained acid to match Cullen’s as she continued, “I doubt they’ll graciously receive our apologies and go about their business.”

“They will remain a threat, and a powerful one, unless we act,” Leliana agreed.

“We cannot accept defeat now. There must be a solution,” Cassandra said solidly.

“Wait.” Leliana stepped forward. “There is a secret passage into the castle. An escape route for the family. It’s too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through.”

“Too risky,” Cullen vetoed. “Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister—”

“Cullen!”

Everyone jumped when Saraan shouted the commander’s name and slammed her huge hands down on the war table. “We know,” she said, enunciating the two words before going on. “We _know_ you don’t want to ally with the mages, we _know_ you don’t like the idea of sending Halla or any of us into Redcliffe when it’s occupied by Tevinters. Now that that’s been established, we do still need your help coming up with a plan so none of our people _do_ die, Commander.” She stepped back and folded her arms, her piece said.

“We need a distraction,” Leliana said, taking advantage of the stunned silence following Saraan’s outburst. “Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly.”

“Focus their attention on Trevelyan while we take out the Tevinters,” Cullen mused. “It’s risky, but it could work,” he admitted grudgingly.

“Fortunately, you’ll have help.”

Aiyan was first to recognize the voice, first to turn, first to smile as Dorian strode into the war room.

A soldier hurried along in the Tevinter’s wake. “This man says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander,” he panted.

Dorian stopped next to Aiyan. “Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help. So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.” In the silence that followed, Dorian met Aiyan’s smile with a small one of his own and a wink.

Cullen heaved a sigh. “The plan puts you in the most danger,” he told Halla. “I can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this.”

“That’s why you leave the decisions to us,” she riposted. “I’m going. Aiyan?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Aiyan answered surely. “We’re going back to Redcliffe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hello handsome fancy meeting you in this here redcliffe chantry


	10. Time Traveler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and now the fun begins

“Announce us,” Halla ordered in the commanding voice of a born noble.

“The magister’s invitation was for Mistress Trevelyan alone,” the leader of the escort replied. “The rest…” He cast a critical eye over the massive Qunari and the tattooed elf mage with her, “…will wait here.”

“It’s _Lady_ Trevelyan,” Halla corrected, her voice frigid. “And they have to accompany me. You wouldn’t deprive me of my attachés, would you?” After a beat of the servant’s hesitation, she raised her eyebrows expectantly, and it was all Aiyan could do not to smile. She was enjoying this.

The servant nodded and led Halla, Aiyan, and the Iron Bull up the stone stairs and into the magister’s throne room. Gereon Alexius sat in the arl’s high-backed chair, one ankle crossed over his knee, his hands folded neatly in front of him, and his son at his side. “My lord Magister,” the escort announced, “the agents of the Inquisition have arrived.”

“My friend,” Alexius said, spreading his arms as he stood and started toward the small party. “It’s so good to see you again, and your…associates, of course. I’m sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties.”

“Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?” the elven Grand Enchanter demanded, stepping out from the shadows at the edge of the room.

“Fiona, you would have not turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives.” Alexius stated it as fact, but there was an underlying threat in his tone.

Halla put on a smile as false as the magister’s. “Of course she trusts you, Alexius. I’m sure lots of people put their lives in your hands. You have one of those faces.”

Aiyan had to physically bite the inside of his cheek to keep a straight face. _Ah, she learns so fast._

“Yes, the Magisterium tells me that so often,” Alexius answered with no sincerity behind it. “Shall we begin our talks?” He turned away, and for a second, Halla’s eyes flicked to Felix’s. The magister’s son had a silent question in his gaze, and Halla nodded once, minute but reassuring. Felix nodded back just before Alexius turned and sat back down.

“The Inquisition requires mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?”

“Actually,” Halla answered, keeping her voice pleasant, “I was hoping you could tell me about these Venatori I’m hearing so much about.”

“Now where could you have heard that name?” Alexius’s tone was dropping into dangerous territory.

Before Halla could answer, Felix did. “I told her.”

“Felix, what have you done?” Alexius demanded of his son.

Halla glanced at Aiyan, and the elf stepped forward. “We made sure to disarm your trap before we came in. I hope you don’t mind,” he said tauntingly.

Alexius curled his lip at the new speaker. “I’ve yet to see any cleverness, I’m afraid.” He stood again, advancing on the Inquisition envoys, and Aiyan’s hand strayed toward his staff as the magister continued with his voice rising, “You walk into my stronghold, with that stolen mark upon your leader’s hand, a gift you don’t even _understand_ , and think you’re in control?” Halla and Aiyan stood their ground, and Alexius snarled, “She’s nothing but a mistake.”

Aiyan opened his mouth to reply, but Halla put a hand in front of him. “If you know so much, enlighten me,” she commanded. “Tell me what this mark on my hand is for.”

“It belongs to your betters,” Alexius sneered. “You wouldn’t even begin to understand its purpose.”

“Father, listen to yourself!” Felix interrupted desperately as Aiyan felt his heart rate rising, his grip tightening on his staff behind his back. “Do you know what you sound like?”

“He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be.”

In spite of himself, Aiyan felt himself relax. _Dorian._

“Dorian.” Alexius echoed Aiyan’s thoughts in a snarl. “I gave you a chance to be a part of this! You turned me down!” Dorian took his place next to Aiyan and Halla as Alexius raved, “The Elder One has power you would not believe! He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes!”

“What’s better than turning back time?” Aiyan asked, unable to keep the note of irony out of his voice.

“He will make the world bow to mages once more! We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas!”

“You can’t involve my people in this!” Fiona objected hotly.

“Alexius.” Dorian started forward, his voice pleading. “This is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen! Why would you support this?”

“Stop it, Father!” Felix agreed. “Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and _let’s go home._ ”

“No!” Alexius snapped. “It’s the only way, Felix. He can save you!”

“Save me?” Felix repeated, disgust evident in his voice.

“There is a way!” the magister insisted. “The Elder One promised! If I undo the mistake at the Temple…!”

“I’m going to die,” Felix spat. “You need to accept that.”

“Seize them, Venatori!” Alexius ordered. “The Elder One demands the lives of the woman and the elf!”

Halla drew her knives, but Alexius’s command was met only with the death rattles of his followers. Leliana’s agents stepped out of the shadows, shaking drops of blood from their knives. “Your men are dead, Alexius,” Halla said flatly.

“You are a mistake!” Alexius hissed at her, raising his hand with something in it. “You should never have existed!” An amulet rose from his hand, glowing with a dark green light.

Aiyan could feel the magic in the amulet, and dread rose like a sudden gust of wind in his belly. “NO!” he shouted, in unison with Dorian. Aiyan shoved Halla aside, putting himself in her place, and Dorian swung his staff—

The light expanded as Alexius stumbled backward. A swirling green vortex yawned in the air, and Aiyan remembered no more.

—

“Where’d they come from?”

Aiyan opened his eyes to a dank dungeon, up to his knees in water—he didn’t want to consider other possibilities of what the liquid might be. Dorian was already swinging his staff, casting spell after spell at the two Venatori zealots charging at them. “Help me, would you?” he ordered.

Shaking his head to clear it, Aiyan pulled his own staff from his back and froze the legs of one of the zealots. He swung his staff two-handed and clocked his assailant on the head, sending him down with a gash on his temple bleeding freely. He turned, and Dorian had already dispatched the other. “What happened?”

“It’s probably not what Alexius intended, at any rate,” Dorian commented, glancing around the cell. “The rift must have moved us…to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?”

“The last thing I remember,” Aiyan began, his voice still shaky, putting a hand to his forehead, “we were in the castle hall.”

“Let’s see…if we’re still in the castle, it isn’t…” Dorian slapped his own forehead. “Oh! Of course! It’s not simply _where,_ it’s _when!_ Alexius used the amulet as a focus; it moved us through time!”

“Then did we go forward in time or back, and how far?” Aiyan demanded.

“Those…are excellent questions,” Dorian sighed. “We’ll have to find out, won’t we? Let’s look around. See where the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back. If we can.”

_That’s reassuring,_ Aiyan thought sarcastically. “What was Alexius trying to do, then?”

“I believe his original plan was to remove you—and the other three survivors from the Temple—remove you from time completely. If that happened, you would never have been at the Temple of Sacred Ashes or mangled his Elder One’s plan. I think your surprise in the castle hall made him reckless. He tossed us into the rift before he was ready. I countered it, the magic went wild, you pushed the woman with the mark out of the way, and here we are. Make sense?”

“Barely,” Aiyan answered.

“I don’t even want to think about what this will do to the fabric of the world,” Dorian admitted. “We didn’t travel through time so much as punch a hole in it and toss it into the privy.” When he saw the elf’s teeth dig into his bottom lip, he hurried on, “Don’t worry. I’m here. I’ll protect you.”

“The others in the hall,” Aiyan began, tripping over his words. “Could they have been drawn through the rift too?”

“I doubt it was large enough to bring the whole room through,” Dorian answered. “Alexius wouldn’t risk catching himself or Felix in it. They’re probably all still where and when we left them—in some sense, anyway.”

Aiyan was full of questions and had no idea where to start save with the mastermind. “Alexius mentioned an ‘Elder One’ in the hall. Do you know what—who—he was talking about?”

“Leader of the Venatori, I expect. Some magister aspiring to godhood. It’s the same old tune.” Dorian pitched his voice higher, whinier. “‘Let’s play with magic we don’t understand! It’ll make us incredibly powerful!’” He dropped back to his normal voice. “Evidently it doesn’t matter if you rip apart the fabric of time in the process.”

“You have a plan to get us back, I hope.”

“I have some thoughts on that. They’re lovely thoughts. Like little jewels.”

Aiyan hissed in frustration, starting for the open cell door. “You’re getting us nowhere, Vint,” he snapped, using the Iron Bull’s nickname for Tevinters. “Come on; let’s see what we can find.”

“Oh, if that’s how you’re going to be,” Dorian huffed, but followed him anyway.

“I have a bad feeling about all the red glow,” Aiyan murmured. “A very bad feeling.”

“Do you know what it is, then?” Dorian asked.

“Unfortunately,” Aiyan answered. “It’s lyrium. Red lyrium. From what I’ve heard, regular lyrium only addles your mind through ingestion, and over a long period of time—don’t _touch_ it!” he snapped.

Dorian quickly drew his hand back from the largest red crystal in the room. “Why?” he asked defensively.

“Because red lyrium only needs to be near you to mess with your head!” Aiyan said right back. “And it doesn’t need that long! Now, if you don’t want to be left a drooling vegetable in this dungeon, we need to hurry!”

Dorian looked affronted, even angry, for a quick moment before he let out a short sigh. “Fine. Lead on.”

“There’s stairs at the end of this hallway,” Aiyan said. “Let’s make for those.”

The two mages started off together, staffs gripped tight, ready for enemies at every turn. Up a flight of stairs, through a door, up more stairs. The journey seemed agonizingly slow to Aiyan, who jumped at every tiny skitter of a rat’s claws or breath of wind.

“Alexius has made a _dreadful_ mess of this place, hasn’t he?” Dorian murmured in an attempt at levity.

“Shh,” Aiyan replied. “If someone hears us…” He glanced around as he opened another door, backing out and closing it almost immediately. “The cells in there are empty except for corpses.”

“Yes, so I smelled,” Dorian replied, his nose wrinkled as he followed the elf to another door. “If we keep going up, we should eventually get out of this dungeon.”

Aiyan had cast a spell before Dorian even stopped speaking, and the Venatori across the room was thrown violently back into the wall, audibly breaking bones. Dorian was too stunned to even help as Aiyan whirled his staff over his head, freezing the second zealot and casting another force spell to throw him off the platform he stood on. The elf turned, setting the end of his staff down on the ground, and asked, “What was that about ‘don’t worry, I’ll protect you’?”

—

“You are…alive?”

Aiyan turned at the voice, barely more than a whisper, and motioned for Dorian to stop as well as Fiona continued, “I saw you…disappear…into the rift.”

“What’s happened to you?” Aiyan asked, clutching the bars of Fiona’s cell to bring himself as close as he could. “Is that…red lyrium?”

“Red lyrium,” Fiona echoed with the glow of the stuff growing out of her body dancing in her pained eyes. “It’s…a disease. The longer you’re near it… Eventually, you become this. Then they mine your corpse for more.”

“Can you tell us the date?” Dorian interjected. “It’s very important.”

“Harvestmere. 9:42…Dragon,” she replied with an obvious effort.

“9:42,” Dorian repeated wonderingly. “Then we missed an entire year!”

“We have to get out of here,” Aiyan decided. “Go back in time.”

“Please,” Fiona begged, “stop this from happening! Alexius serves the Elder One—more powerful than the Maker! No one challenges him and lives…”

“I will do everything in my power to set things right,” Aiyan swore.

“Our only hope is the amulet Alexius used to send us here,” Dorian offered. “If it still exists, I can use it to reopen the rift at the exact spot we left. …Maybe.”

“Good,” Fiona breathed.

“I said maybe,” Dorian reminded her. “It might also turn us into paste.”

“You—must—try!” Fiona insisted in as strong a voice as she could manage. “Your spymaster…Leliana! She is here. Find her. Quickly. Before the Elder One…learns you’re here…” Her eyes slipped shut.

Aiyan turned to Dorian. “We have to find the others. If Leliana’s here, she’s under heavy guard. We’ll need Halla to slit throats and Bull to bust down doors.”

—

“A hundred eleven bottles of beer on the wall, a hundred and eleven bottles of beer! Take one down, pass it around—“

“Bull?”

The Iron Bull turned. “You’re not dead,” he marveled as Aiyan unlocked the cell with a flick of his wrist and a spark of magic. “You’re supposed to be dead. There was a burn on the ground and everything.”

“Alexius didn’t kill us,” Dorian explained. “His spell sent us through time. This is our future.”

“Well, it’s my present,” Bull replied acidly. “And in my past, I definitely saw you both die.”

“I’m no more dead than you,” Aiyan offered.

“Well, dead and not dead are up for debate,” the Bull remarked.

“This conversation has taken a turn for the moronic,” Dorian snapped. “Just come with us. We’re going to fight Alexius.”

Bull chuckled darkly. “Alexius isn’t the real threat here. His Elder One assassinated the Orlesian empress and led a demon army in a massive invasion of the south. The Elder One rules everything—what’s left of it, anyway.”

“Shit,” Aiyan breathed. “We really are going to need Halla.”

Bull let out a bark of mirthless laughter as he stepped out of his cell. “Halla? She was killed a minute after you guys. We knew the Vint wanted her dead, and that’s what he got, wasn’t it?”

Even in the glow of the red lyrium, Dorian saw Aiyan’s face pale. “No,” he whispered. “Halla…”

“From what I’ve heard, the other two are dead as well,” Bull said quietly. “I was sorry to hear it; that Vashoth woman was a real prize.”

Aiyan gripped the bars of the cell, putting his forehead against them to steady his uneasy legs. “No,” he said again, fighting back tears. “I can’t be the only one left. That was never supposed to happen.”

“Are you all right?” Dorian ventured.

“No!” Aiyan snarled. “I am not all right!”

“Boss,” Bull cautioned. “We don’t have time for that.”

“Time _is_ the name of the game here,” Dorian remarked. “We need to get back to our own and stop all this before it happens. Exciting, yes?”

He knew he had said the wrong thing when Aiyan looked up from his grief with the red lyrium glinting off his dark eyes—or in them; it was difficult to tell. “Exciting,” he repeated in a low voice. “I just learned that we absolutely have to succeed, or three of my best friends are _dead_ , and you’re calling it _exciting?_ ”

Dorian backed up automatically at the elf’s stiff ears and bared teeth. This was Aiyan as neither of the others had ever seen him before. “I’m sorry,” Dorian forced himself to say.

“We need to get going,” Bull warned. “Boss. Let’s go.”

Aiyan tore his eyes away from Dorian and stormed forward. Bull glanced at Dorian and gave a follow-him head gesture. “Magister’s in his throne room. The Vints say he locked himself in.”

“We need to find Leliana first,” Aiyan answered. “With any luck, she’ll know what the hell is going on here.”

Dorian followed warily. Aiyan had changed upon hearing of Halla’s fate. Now he was bold as he strode up staircases and through doors, vicious even as he showed Tevinter enemies no mercy. Still, the dungeons were vast—and empty. Only a few Venatori showed themselves, and the silence pressed on the small party until faint voices could be heard behind a door.

“The Maker is dead! Say it!”

“Never. I’ll die a good Andrastian before I live a second as one of you!”

The second voice’s scream cut off abruptly just before Aiyan kicked the door open. “Hello,” he snarled. “Did you miss me?”

The Venatori were too stunned to react as Aiyan’s fireballs thundered down on them. They were dead in seconds, and Aiyan stepped ruthlessly over their bodies to kneel at the side of the dead Chantry sister. As Bull scooped up the sword one of the guards had carried, Aiyan carefully shut the sister’s eyes before standing and turning. “She’s gone. Let’s keep moving.”

Dorian and Bull exchanged another look as Aiyan passed them on his way out of the room. Bull shrugged, and they followed the elf.

Two doors down, Aiyan’s ears pricked, and he held up a hand. Dorian and Bull stopped, and the voices Aiyan had already heard sounded faintly in their ears. “How did they know about the sacrifice in the Temple? Answer!”

“Never.” Leliana’s voice was a snarl. A sharp sound, and she grunted in pain.

“There’s no use to this defiance, little bird,” her captor cajoled. “There’s no one left for you to protect.”

“You’re wasting your breath.” Another slap, another grunt.

“Talk! The Elder One demands answers!”

Leliana laughed derisively. “He should get used to disappointment.” Another slap.

“You will break!”

“I will die first.”

Aiyan had heard enough. The door crashed open, and the Venatori turned. Leliana seized her chance. “Or you will.” With an impressive show of strength for being held up by her wrists, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around her captor’s neck, squeezing and twisting. The Venatori’s neck made an audible snap as it broke.

Aiyan was already moving, grabbing the key ring from the jailer’s belt and running to Leliana. “You’re alive,” she breathed as he reached up and unlocked her shackles.

“We never died in the first place,” he answered. “Alexius miscalculated.”

“Then it will be his last mistake,” Leliana said decisively. Her face was haggard, her eyes sunken and her skin pale and wrinkled as if she had lived thirty years since the rift had taken Aiyan and Dorian. “Do you have weapons?” Aiyan nodded, and so did she. “Good. The magister’s probably in his chambers.”

“You…aren’t curious how we got here?” Dorian asked, bewildered, as Leliana looted the body of one of the guards for his bow and quiver.

“No,” she answered shortly, standing again.

“Alexius sent us into the future. This—his victory, his Elder One—it was never meant to be.”

“If we get back to the present and stop Alexius, you’ll never have to go through this,” Aiyan added.

“And mages always wonder why people fear them,” Leliana said, disgusted. “No one should have this kind of power.”

“It’s dangerous and unpredictable,” Dorian agreed. “Before the Breach, nothing we did—”

“Enough,” Leliana cut across him. “This is all pretend to you. Some future you hope will never exist. I _suffered._ The whole world suffered. It was _real._ ” She turned to the door. “We need to go. We need to find Alexius.”

Dorian looked to Aiyan, surprised even further at the venom in Leliana’s voice, but the other mage only nodded. With a small shrug, Dorian followed her and the others out.

For someone who had been locked up for as long as she had, Leliana’s strides were strong, born of anger and pent-up vengeance. She led them through corridors and halls lit by the sickly red glow of the lyrium growing from walls, ceilings, floors. Finally, she pushed open a door to a courtyard, and Aiyan stared, horrified, at the sky.

“The Breach, it’s…”

“Everywhere,” Dorian finished, just as stunned.

“Shit, you can fit a lot of demons through that thing,” Bull breathed.

“Without Halla’s mark…” Aiyan realized, “…the Breach has nothing stopping it.”

“Keep moving,” Leliana advised. “We do not want to be outside too long.”

Save for a few shades, the castle seemed to be barren of life. Corpses littered the floors here and there, most rotted away or in the process of it. Red lyrium lent an eerie glow where it grew, which was nearly everywhere. Finally, Leliana stopped in front of a massive double door. “Here,” she said, her voice low. “The magister is in there. Are you ready?”

Aiyan gripped his staff with both hands. “If it means Halla and Saraan and Panna live and none of this ever happens…I’m ready for anything.”

Leliana nodded and pushed open the door.

Silence greeted them. The magister stood alone, silhouetted by the fireplace he faced. Alexius barely noticed the four people walking toward him until Aiyan asked, “No Venatori this time, Alexius? Where’s the trap? Your guards?”

“There’s no longer any point.” All energy had disappeared from Alexius’s voice. “I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now, but I knew I hadn’t destroyed you. My final failure.”

“Was it worth it?” Dorian asked cuttingly. “Everything you did to the world—to yourself!”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Alexius dismissed tiredly. “All we can do is wait for the end.”

“What do you mean?” Aiyan demanded. “What’s ending?”

Alexius’s laugh had no emotion behind it. “The irony that you should appear now, of all the possibilities. All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought? Ruin and death. There is nothing else. The Elder One comes for me, for you, for us all.”

Leliana lunged from the shadows, dragging the other person in the room to his feet and putting a dagger at his throat. “Felix!” Alexius shouted, turning to see his son held at knifepoint. He held out a hand, as if to placate the furious spymaster.

“That’s Felix?” Dorian breathed, staring at Felix’s sunken eyes, his emaciated face. “Maker’s breath, Alexius! What have you _done?_ ”

“He would have died, Dorian! I saved him! Please, don’t hurt my son! I’ll do anything you ask!”

“Leliana, let Felix go!” Aiyan ordered. “He’s innocent!”

“No one is innocent.” Leliana yanked her arm, and Felix collapsed, his throat slit.

“No…NO!” Alexius’s force spell cast Leliana away from him, and Aiyan’s reaction was immediate. As Alexius lunged, an invisible shield threw him backward.

“She’s not your opponent here.”

Alexius turned to see the elf with his staff still raised. “You… _you!_ ” he seethed.

“Let me fight him,” Dorian urged, placing his hand on Aiyan’s arm. “We can’t lose you here.”

“No.” Aiyan’s answer was final, and his eyes did not leave the magister. “Before we go back, he has to pay for what he did to Halla and Saraan and Panna.”

The two mages began to circle each other, glaring across the space between them. Alexius was first to make a move, Aiyan the first to counter. The fireball careened away, slamming into the wall and leaving a smoking hole. Aiyan retaliated immediately, and spell after spell shot in every direction, bouncing off force fields and shields. Aiyan forced himself to stay calm, forced himself to not think of how Halla had seen him disappear, thought she had lost him seconds before she, too, died. Had she reached out to where he had disappeared? Shouted his name? Had she even fought her opponents after thinking he’d died?

Alexius showed no such restraint. His magic was furious, as though he had given up on everything and decided he had nothing left to lose. Finally, he launched himself at Aiyan, screaming his anguish, and the elf drew back his staff.

The blade on the end of the staff drove straight through Alexius’s chest as cleanly as one of Halla’s knives. As the magister choked on blood, Aiyan whispered, for him and only him, “ _Tel’abelas._ ” _I am not sorry._

Aiyan stepped back, pulling his staff from Alexius’s chest, and the magister died on the floor, drowning in despair and his own blood.

“He wanted to die, didn’t he?” Dorian realized quietly, crouching next to his old mentor’s body. “All those lies he told himself, the justifications… He lost Felix long ago, and he didn’t even notice… Oh, Alexius…”

“This Alexius was too far gone,” Aiyan told him softly. “But the Alexius in our time might still be reasoned with.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Dorian sighed, taking something from Alexius’s pocket. “This is the same amulet he used before. I think it’s the same one we made in Minrathous. That’s a relief. Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift.”

“An hour?” Leliana demanded. “That’s impossible! You must go now!”

As if to confirm her words, the floor shook around them. Rubble shook loose from the walls and ceiling as something roared far away. “The Elder One,” Leliana breathed.

“You need to hurry,” Bull urged. “I’ll head out front. Get them off your tail.”

“No!” Aiyan argued. “I won’t let you commit suicide!”

“Look at us,” Leliana answered, gesturing to her own sunken cheeks, to Bull’s red-tinged eyes. “We’re already dead. The only way we’ll live is if this day never comes. Cast your spell,” she ordered as she and Bull started for the door. “You have as much time as I have arrows.”

“Come on.” Dorian tugged on Aiyan’s arm as the elf watched Bull leave the room and the doors close behind him. “I’ll need another mage’s help.”

“‘Though darkness closes,’” Leliana recited as she pulled an arrow from her quiver, “‘I am shielded by flame.’”

Dorian let go of the amulet, and it floated up. “The spell Alexius used…I have an idea of what it might have included. I think I can do this, but I’ll need you to cast a shield so nothing interrupts it.”

The doors boomed open again, and Iron Bull’s lifeless body was the first thing to enter the throne room, falling and staying where it was thrown by the terror demon. “Andraste, guide me!” Leliana prayed as she released her first arrow. “Maker, take me to your side!” She grunted in pain as the first arrow hit her.

Aiyan started toward her, not knowing what he would do. “No!” Dorian grabbed his arm as the rift opened behind them. “You move, and we all die!”

One of the Venatori zealots grabbed Leliana from behind, his arm around her neck, and raised a knife to plunge into her. “Go!” she screamed.

Aiyan stared at her, transfixed as he took another step toward her, his mind rebelling at the thought of her death.

A hand seized his arm again. Dorian pulled him through the rift, and Aiyan remembered no more.

—

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

Alexius stared at Dorian and Aiyan for a moment before falling to his knees, defeated.

“That’s all?” Aiyan asked viciously. “Are you worth so little?”

“Put aside all claim to Redcliffe, and we’ll let you live,” Halla commanded.

“You won,” the magister admitted. “There is no more point extending this charade.” He looked to his son. “Felix…”

“It’s going to be all right, Father,” Felix assured him, crouching next to him.

“You’ll die.” There was the barest hint of a sob in Alexius’s voice.

“Everyone dies,” Felix answered as Inquisition agents yanked Alexius unceremoniously to his feet.

“Well, I’m glad that’s over with,” Dorian commented, his light tone returning finally. He shared a knowing smile with Aiyan.

The clanking of marching soldiers entered the room, and the Inquisition party looked up to find men in Fereldan armor taking up places where Alexius’s Venatori had once stood. “Or not,” Dorian muttered.

“Grand Enchanter!” A man in rather plain clothing entered behind his soldiers. He carried himself like a man in charge, and Aiyan realized why when Halla whispered to him the man’s identity: Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden. “Imagine how surprised I was to find out that you’d given Redcliffe Castle away to a Tevinter magister.” He folded his arms. “Especially since I’m fairly sure Redcliffe belongs to Arl Teagan.”

“Your Majesty, we never intended—“

“I know what you intended,” the king cut across Fiona. “I wanted to help you, but you’ve made it impossible.” He seemed reluctant to declare, “You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden.”

“But we have hundreds who need protection!” Fiona protested. “Where will we go?”

Aiyan and Halla traded a look and nodded to each other. “Your Majesty, if I may…?” Halla ventured.

King Alistair nodded to her. “Lady Trevelyan.”

“I should point out that we did come here for mages to help us close the Breach,” Halla reminded Fiona.

“And what are the terms of this arrangement?” Fiona inquired.

“Hopefully better than what Alexius gave you,” Dorian interjected. “The Inquisition is better than that, yes?”

Halla looked past him, and Aiyan nodded once. “We would be honored to have you fight as allies at the Inquisition’s side,” she pronounced.

“A generous offer,” Fiona began. “But will the rest of the Inquisition honor it?”

Only Halla, Dorian, and Bull caught the soft snort and the mutter of, “They’d better,” from Aiyan.

“The Breach threatens all of Thedas,” Halla answered. “We cannot afford to be divided now. We can’t fight it without you. Any chance of success requires your full support.”

“I’d take Lady Trevelyan’s offer if I were you,” King Alistair advised. “One way or another, you’re leaving my kingdom.”

“We accept, then,” Fiona decided. “It would be madness not to. I will gather my people and ready them for the journey to Haven. The Breach will be closed. You will not regret giving us this chance.”

—

—

“It’s not a matter for debate!” Cullen insisted. “There will be abominations among the mages, and we must be prepared!”

“If we rescind the offer of an alliance now, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst!” Josephine argued.

“What were you thinking?” Cullen turned his anger on Halla. “Turning mages loose with no oversight? The Veil is torn open!”

Once again, he had said exactly the wrong thing, and he knew it right away thanks to the narrowing of Halla’s eyes and the unsubtle glare from Aiyan across the war table. It was Aiyan who answered, curtly and pointedly. “We’re not monsters. We’re people, and we deserve the same respect as anyone else.”

“This is not about respect!” Cullen fumed. “Even the strongest mages can be overcome by demons in situations like these.”

“Enough arguing,” Cassandra cut across them. “None of us were there except for Lavellan and Lady Trevelyan. We cannot afford to second-guess our people. The sole point of the Herald’s mission was to gain the aid of the mages, and that was accomplished.”

“The voice of pragmatism speaks!”

Aiyan’s heart rose unbidden as everyone turned to see Dorian in the doorway once again. “And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments,” the Tevinter commented, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.

“Closing the Breach is all that matters,” Cassandra said.

“We should look into the things you saw in this dark future,” Leliana said, addressing the two mages in the room. The assassination of Empress Celene…a demon army…”

“Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do,” Dorian remarked. “Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone.”

“One battle at a time,” Cullen cautioned. “We’ll need time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. Let’s take this to the war room. Join us,” he invited Aiyan and Halla. “None of this means anything without that mark.”

“And I’d hoped to sit out the assault on the Breach,” Halla sighed.

Aiyan flicked her a quick grin. “Take a nap?”

She shrugged, a smile playing at her lips. “Maybe go for a walk!”

Cullen smiled at that. “What is it they say? ‘No rest for the wicked’?”

“Meet us there when you’re ready, then,” Josephine said.

“I’ll skip the war council, but I would like to see this Breach up close, if you don’t mind,” Dorian volunteered.

“Then you’re staying?” Aiyan asked, fighting to keep the hopefulness out of his tone.

“Oh, didn’t I mention?” Dorian’s mustache twitched with a smile. “The south is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces.”

“I must admit, I’m surprised,” Aiyan remarked.

“We both saw what could happen.” Dorian’s expression darkened. “What this Elder One and his cult are trying to do. Not everything from Tevinter is terrible. Some of us have fought for eons against this sort of madness. It’s my duty to stay with you. That future will _not_ come to pass.”

“There’s no one I’d rather be stranded in time with,” Aiyan told him, “future or present.”

“Excellent choice! But let’s not get stranded again anytime soon, yes?”

“I’ll begin preparations to march on the summit,” Cullen said. “Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory.”

“I’ll join you all later,” Aiyan excused himself. “I’m…more than a little tired. I’ll see you again soon,” he promised before brushing past Dorian to leave the room. The Tevinter glanced after him, then, with a last look back at the others, followed him out.

“I didn’t even think that Lavellan would be exhausted, but he probably is,” Cullen realized. “After an ordeal like that…” He stopped short. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

Josephine and Leliana and Halla were all smiling. Halla’s quiet, “Oh, he’ll be tired, all right,” sent the other two women into quiet giggles as Cullen stared, confused.

—

“Wait for me, will you?”

Aiyan turned. “Dorian.”

“Aiyan. It _is_ Aiyan, right?” The Tevinter fell into step next to the elf. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Aiyan answered. “Surprisingly, I regret almost none of my actions while we were…trapped.” He stole a glance beside him before saying, “The only one I feel sorry for is how I treated you after I found out about what happened to Halla and Saraan and Panna. You…didn’t deserve what I said to you. I was upset. I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“You really do get right to the point, don’t you?” Dorian marveled. “Your apology is accepted, though unneeded. We neither of us were quite prepared for what we saw there, were we?”

“No,” Aiyan said, hastily tearing his eyes away from the patch of skin on Dorian’s side shown off by the strange outfit he wore. “No, we weren’t.”

He missed the twitch of Dorian’s mustache that signaled a quick, knowing smile. “If anything, I’m glad you made it back in one piece. I thought you’d snap in half if a stiff breeze came by. I must confess, I am surprised at your skill. The way you defeated Alexius—“

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Aiyan cut him off. His own words echoed in his head: _Tel’abelas._

“At any rate, I am happy you made it back alive.” Dorian’s voice adopted a tenderness Aiyan had never heard him use, although he had gotten close with Felix and Alexius. “The other three would never have forgiven me if I came back without you. I, well, I’d never have forgiven myself if I came back without you.” He paused. “I suppose what I’m trying to say…” He sighed, his shoulder slumping a little as he smiled helplessly at Aiyan. “I’m glad you were with me. I’m glad you’re still with me. I’m glad I’m still with you.” He hesitated. “Will you…allow me to stay with you? And your Inquisition?”

“If you really think it’s up to me…” Aiyan smiled. “Yes. Please stay, Dorian.”

He wasn’t quite sure if he was answering Dorian’s question about the Inquisition or Aiyan himself.


	11. The Last of the People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clearing up some misunderstandings.

Halla shook her left hand violently, as if trying to rid it of water. “This fucking thing,” she muttered as she turned from where she’d just closed a rift.

“Halla?” Aiyan asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” she answered. “It just hurts sometimes, is all.”

Aiyan resolved to give her hand a closer look when it wasn’t covered in a glove as he glanced around to the others. Solas was pushing himself back to his feet after healing Varric. He helped the dwarf up and looked around for any others who needed healing. Sera stuck out her tongue when Solas offered his hand, and Aiyan made a mental note to check her over later. Much as she was wary of magic, she wasn’t any more impervious to getting hurt.

Someone else moved in the corner of his eye, and Aiyan turned to look—Dorian, being pulled to his feet by the Iron Bull, laughing a little shakily. “So that’s the kind of trouble you tend to get into?”

“Getting cold feet, Pavus?” Halla called. “You’re the one who asked to come along.”

“Hardly,” Dorian answered, his eyes flicking to Aiyan. “The view is indeed stunning. Completely worth the peril.”

Aiyan turned away, pretending determinedly that he hadn’t heard, even as his ears burned. “Are we all all right?”

“Only minor scrapes,” Solas reported, his voice steady and smooth as ever. “Nothing to be too concerned about.”

“Do we press on, boss?” the Iron Bull asked.

Halla looked up at the sky. “I don’t think so, no. Sun’s getting low, and it’s a long way back to camp. I think that was the last rift marked on the map anyway. We head back.”

Aiyan watched Halla’s back as she turned to lead the way. She’d grown so much in the few short months since the dungeon in Haven’s Chantry. It struck Aiyan that Halla and Sethi were the same age. How would Sethi have fared in Halla’s position?

_That’s not what you want to ask,_ he scolded himself. _Don’t lie to yourself. You just think this would have been easier with Sethi here._ He relaxed his shoulders when he saw Dorian’s eyes on him from the side. _At least I’d know what to expect from someone._

—

Aiyan waved his hand back and forth, and the ethereal replica followed it. He could make one of his entire hand now, thanks to practicing every time no eyes were on him. He wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t want anyone seeing him. Maybe he wanted it to be perfect before they saw it. Maybe it was precaution—he didn’t think devout Andrastian adherents, which many of the scouts and soldiers of the Inquisition were, would hesitate to raise an alarm if they found and elven apostate practicing a new kind of magic.

“I see you’ve discovered how to use the magic of the rifts.”

Maybe it was wanting to think he really was the only one who knew about it.

He clenched his fist, and the replica disappeared as he turned. “Solas.”

The other elf sat next to him. “I was hoping you would find that, I suppose. It’s quite the useful power. Instead of touching the Fade to manipulate the world, you are drawing on the Fade itself. The replica of your hand is created from the essence of the Fade. With practice, one can make replicas of other things.” Solas lifted his own hand, and a replica of one of the black rocks at their feet appeared in the air. “And they have the same weight and movement as their corporeal counterparts.” He twitched a finger, and the stone dropped to roll a bit before settling in among its fellows. “It also seems to have gotten much easier since the Breach opened. I have to expend barely any energy to do that, when before it would have taxed me greatly.”

The stone disappeared as Aiyan gazed at it. “So…I’m not the first one to discover this?”

Some of his disappointment must have leaked into his voice, because Solas chuckled warmly. “I am afraid not, _da’len._ I’m surprised you discovered it on your own, though. I had not thought to meet someone who could manipulate the Fade like…like that.”

Aiyan’s eyes moved to his own hands, open in his lap, as slowly, a piece fell into place. “Maybe this is what the Fade gave me.”

“What it gave you?” Solas echoed.

“If it gave Halla the mark, who knows what it gave Saraan and Panna and me?” Aiyan asked. “We all walked there physically, even if we can’t remember it. Maybe this…rift magic…is what I ended up with after the explosion.”

“It is…possible,” Solas agreed.

Aiyan raised his hands again, and his voice was firm as he said, “Then I’ll keep practicing. If this is how I can get an edge, I’ll do it.”

He was only a little ashamed of the delighted laugh that escaped him when an entire cascade of ghostly green pebbles fell in front of him and Solas.

—

“Report?” Cullen asked as Saraan and Panna trudged into the war room.

Saraan repeated the words from the letter she had sent to Haven when she and Panna began the return journey from Therinfal Redoubt: “What remains of the Templar Order has joined the Inquisition. Lord Seeker Lucius had been replaced by a demon of envy—which is now dead. We still don’t know where the real Lord Seeker is.”

Aiyan had the distinct feeling, even as Cullen nodded his acknowledgement of their report, that Saraan had left a great many details unsaid.

“The officers were mostly corrupt,” Panna said shortly as Cassandra entered behind them—and the Seeker looked to be in a _towering_ rage.

“Officers betraying their soldiers, templars without leaders, a _demon_ imitating the Lord Seeker!” she seethed. “We should have taken them to task!” she snapped at Saraan and Panna. “The crimes they’ve committed—”

“Were committed by their officers,” Saraan said shortly, as if it were something she’d said several times on the way back from Therinfal.

“The templars will serve,” Panna insisted.

“These crimes put them at our mercy, yet the terms of this alliance do not benefit the Inquisition as they should!” Leliana interrupted. “You should have consulted us, both of you!”

“I’m sure you and Josephine can work _terms_ to our advantage to your hearts’ content,” Panna answered, voice sharper than Aiyan had heard it since the day they woke in the dungeon. “We didn’t exactly have time to draw up a formal treaty.”

Leliana bristled, but Panna only turned on her heel. “I’ll…be in the cabin,” she said quietly to the other three survivors. “I need a change of clothes at least.”

The heavy door swung shut and slammed with a vengeance behind her, and it was several seconds before Josephine broke the silence with a pointed, “An alliance with the templars _was_ our desired outcome. May we discuss their imminent arrival?”

Aiyan tuned out talk of a few dozen veteran templars arriving early, of how to keep the templars and mages from each other’s throats, of where to lodge the templars…

He slipped away as soon as he could.

—

Panna’s filthy travel clothes were strewn over the floor when Aiyan knocked softly and pushed open the door to the cabin. That was strange in itself; when Saraan was away, Panna was always the one who kept the cabin neat. “Panna?” he called softly. “ _Lethallan?_ ” She wouldn’t understand the endearment, but it made him feel a little more confident in, well, intruding. She was one of his, and obviously upset; he would do whatever he could for her.

“Here.”

He hadn’t been expecting the voice, but she stepped out from behind the screen she used when dressing. She only wore her breastband on top, revealing a torso scarred many times over and a heavyset build. “Do you need something?” she asked before pulling on the clean tunic in her hand.

“Only to see if you were all right.” Aiyan chose his words carefully. “You…left very suddenly, is all.”

“And I snapped at the spymaster,” Panna added. “I’ll have to watch my back for a few days, won’t I?” She yanked her belt down from where it hung on the screen and cinched it around her waist. “I’m…sorry I walked out, in any case. Cassandra’s been furious the entire way back, and we decided to push on to Haven instead of sleeping much last night.”

Aiyan took a deep breath, willing himself to not call her words thin excuses and demand to know the full story. “Was there…something before the road back that was bothering you?”

“There’s always something before,” Panna answered enigmatically, turning away to pull on her coat.

Aiyan waited.

It only took several seconds before Panna whirled. “You know, I can feel your expectation from here.” She heaved a sigh. “ _Fine._ That envy demon that was imitating the Lord Seeker—it tried to break me. I didn’t put it in the report. Didn’t feel a need to. It showed me some…some fucked-up version of the future Inquisition. One where I—I guess I betrayed the rest of you? I’d taken control of the Inquisition, made it corrupt. Envy was trying to show me what would happen when it defeated me, I suppose. It would have taken my place. But…it had other shit to use against me too.

“Look, no one’s listening in, are they?” Panna demanded, glancing to the open door. “Shut that, will you?”

Aiyan closed the door without a word, waiting for Panna to speak again.

She prefaced it with a hand running through her dark red hair, pushing it away from falling into her face. “I grew up with that kind of corruption—the kind Envy showed me. My mother’s a Carta clan head. Corruption and theft and sweet-talking and threatening and straight-up _lying_ to get into the lyrium trade is her life—and mine. Well, it _was_ mine. Until I was sent to the Conclave. Look, Envy hurled my past at me too—that maybe it wouldn’t even have to take my place. Maybe I’d do it all myself anyway. To think that I’d fall right back into that…scared me. I thought I’d left it behind, is all.”

By the time she finished, her voice was smaller than Aiyan had ever heard it.

There was a silence of several seconds before Panna said, “Guess I…better pick up my clothes, huh?”

Before she could take a single step, Aiyan had crossed the room and hugged her, tight. “Oi!” she said in surprise. “What’re you doing? What’s this for?”

“To let you know that you don’t have to face it alone,” Aiyan answered.

Panna stilled for a second before giving him an awkward pat on the back. “Thanks. I guess… Now get off of me.”

Aiyan stepped back, unable to help his smile. Panna was trying valiantly to scowl and failing spectacularly. “No hugging, alright?” she asked, two seconds before relenting and giving Aiyan a lopsided grin. “Thanks, though…Aiyan.”

—

Aiyan tugged his cloak closer around him and tilted his head back to look at the sky. The Breach lit it green, obscuring all but the brightest stars. He could pick out a few of the constellations Keeper had taught him, but so many were hidden, and others unfamiliar.

He ducked his head to blow a heat spell into his hands, rubbing them together and wrapping his cloak even tighter around him. A song made its lazy way into his head, winding around his memory, changing voices every few seconds. First it was Keeper lulling a child to sleep, then Thalon in his soft and rarely-heard singing voice, then Aiyan’s own voice.

Aiyan cast a furtive glance around to the few sentries—out of earshot—before taking a breath and starting to sing to himself.

“ _Heruamin lotirien, alai uethri maeria. Halurocon yalei nam bahna, dolin nereba maome… Ame amin, halai lothi amin… Aloamin heruamin…_ ”

“Do all Dalish elves stand alone outside in the dead of night?”

Aiyan hastily cut himself off as he turned to see Dorian approaching from behind. It took him a moment to regain his wit. “Do all Tevinter mages sneak around in black cloaks at midnight, or is it just the ones with evil-looking mustaches?”

Aiyan decided he liked the sound of Dorian’s laugh. It was a low chuckle, one that rolled from his mouth in a constant, pleasant stream for a few seconds before he answered, “No, just the pariahs, I’m afraid. May I…join you?”

“I don’t know what right I have to say no,” Aiyan answered, stepping to the side so Dorian could join him on the Chantry’s steps.

“I did have the term right, yes? Dalish?” Dorian asked as he stepped into place next to Aiyan.

“Dalish, yes.”

“I don’t believe any Dalish wander as far north as Tevinter,” Dorian mused.

Aiyan cast him a raised-eyebrow glance. “Was that a serious observation? Because I thought it was rather obvious _why_ Dalish clans won’t touch Tevinter.”

“Ah, yes. We destroyed your empire, didn’t we?” Dorian asked.

Aiyan looked away. “There’s also the slavery.”

“…Ah.” For the first time since Aiyan had known him, Dorian looked abashed. “Yes. I…didn’t realize.”

“Didn’t realize?” Aiyan repeated. “You must have had elven slaves back home.”

“I… None that I owned personally. My family has…some. We treat them well.”

“And how many of them can trace their lineage back to a Dalish clan from which an ancestor was kidnapped?” Aiyan asked sharply.

Dorian’s eyebrows drew together an inch. “That is in the past.”

“And yet you brought up the fall of Arlathan. You Tevinters seem so proud of that.”

“You talk as though it’s better for elves in the south!” Dorian snapped. “From what I’ve heard, the Dalish are shunned at best, killed for sport at worst! And the alienages!” He barked a humorless laugh. “Elves living in poverty from which there seems to be no escape! At least in Tevinter, if they’re in service to a noble house, they can have a comfortable life! Support a family instead of—”

“ _No._ ” There was cold fury suffusing Aiyan’s voice now, an old pain. “Nothing you can say will ever convince me that slavery is better. For every magister who treats his slaves well—and I won’t even ask what that means, though it likely just means you don’t beat them _too_ viciously—there are three more who abuse and rape and _kill_ theirs.”

“And you blame me for this? As if I can stop every beating, free every slave in Tevinter?”

“I don’t blame you for it happening,” Aiyan answered. “I only blame you for turning a blind eye. I don’t blame you for the system that abuses. I only blame you for defending it.”

Dorian was struck dumb for the first time at that. Aiyan lifted his head to the stars again, the anger seeping from his voice. “The First of my clan was a slave in Tevinter for the first ten years of her life. I met her when she was sixteen, and she had nightmares of her old master until she was at least twenty. I lived in an alienage for…a time. So much of the culture has been lost. So much is different from the Dalish, but…at least elves have a culture here. I won’t say it’s that much better in the south…but at least we’re free. Poor and second-class we may be…but we have our freedom.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he finished, “We are the last of the People…and never again shall we submit.”

Aiyan looked down once more. “I…can’t say I’m sorry. The abuse of my people…is not something I can stand.”

“No…I’m the one who’s…sorry. I suppose…I’ve never…”

“Never spoken with a free elf?”

“That’s not it, I just… It’s…different. Everything is different here. It’s…difficult to question what I’ve known all my life,” Dorian said, his voice unusually soft.

Aiyan let out his own soft, mirthless laugh. “You’re not alone in that, Dorian.”

He relaxed at the use of his name. “I’m sorry…Aiyan. I will…try to remember what you said. In future.”

“No real harm done,” Aiyan answered. “This argument might not have even happened with another elf. I just…”

“No, I—well, I don’t _understand_ , but…” Dorian trailed off. “I’m…going to change the subject now.”

Aiyan managed his first smile since his faked one at a groggy Halla as he stepped out of the cabin. “By all means.”

“What are you doing out here, anyway?”

Aiyan shrugged one shoulder. “Can’t sleep.”

“And why is that?”

Aiyan cast him a glance. “You’re a mage too; you should know exactly why.”

“Ah, yes. Those pesky Fade demons are bothersome, aren’t they?” Dorian had regained his usual flippancy.

“Worse since the Breach…” Aiyan trailed off, giving Dorian a sidelong look. “And you? You’re up very late too.”

Dorian let out a single chuckle, but it didn’t have its usual humor or warmth. “The same.”

Aiyan nodded once. “Is it worse for you too, so near the Breach?”

“No, I suppose not. It’s just…unfamiliar. It’s different. Different demons in this area of the Fade, I suppose.”

They lapsed into silence for a while before Dorian said, “You were…singing before I got here, weren’t you? Would you…continue?”

“No, it’s…no. I don’t sing much in front of people I…don’t know well.”

“Ah.” Dorian fell into silence for a moment, as if weighing his next words. “Then…I hope…that one day…you and I might know each other well enough for you to sing in front of me.”

Aiyan didn’t answer, but he thought he might like that too.


End file.
